


The Mysteries of Wayne Manor

by elwon



Series: Canon AU's [10]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Gotham by Gaslight (2018)
Genre: All the Robins are servants, Anal Sex, Background Bruce Wayne/Selina Kyle - Freeform, Background Stephanie Brown/Cassandra Cain - Freeform, Breathplay, Canon Typical Violence, Crossdressing, Dick Grayson is Robin, F/F, Ghostly Apparitions, Hotdogging, Jason Todd is Robin, M/M, Medical Peculiars, Oral Sex, POV switches with each chapter, Rimming, Spanking, Wayne Manor is the perfect Gothic setting, set roughly 8 years after the film, taboo or forbidden relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-12 11:34:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 41,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16872189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elwon/pseuds/elwon
Summary: Wayne Manor in the summertime is still a strange forbidding place, but it's somehow worse in the sunshine. And three of the residents of the Manor have their own mysteries to solve.





	1. Arc 1: The Measurement of Miss Stephanie Brown

**Author's Note:**

> Measurement: The act of observing the qualities of a subject.

The cart rattles along over the newly made road from Gotham City itself to Bristol, the expansive and expensive area on the mainland that the Rich of Gotham have claimed for their out of town abodes. Stephanie sighs as she barely manages to avoid hitting herself in the head on the side of the cart. Thankfully, her journey’s almost over and she’ll be arriving at Wayne Manor within the next few minutes. 

She’ll be working as a chambermaid, assuming the whole endeavour isn’t a hoax, and Stephanie hasn’t been convinced it isn’t yet. After nearly being run over by Professor Pyg and Mr Toad during a wild chase given by the Batman on a dark and dismal night last week, Robin, Batman’s helper, had leapt down from his perch on the Batman’s almost invisible in the dark horseless carriage and given Stephanie a card after Stephanie had given them her best tongue-lashing for recklessly endangering the local pedestrians. The card had informed her to make her way to Wayne Manor for employment. The only reason she’s come is because of a desperate need for funds to pay Cassandra’s doctor’s bill.

The cart stops by a set of thick, sturdy set of wrought-iron gates, nearby which is a plaque stating the name of the place. Stephanie checks it against the card in her possession. Since it matches, Stephanie lugs herself and her lone bag off the cart and to the small door sized gate beside the larger one. Huffing, Stephanie makes her way down the long lush drive to the Manor. The gardens all around are beautiful, well kept and maintained. As beautiful as they are, there’s a distinct air of a deep lack of welcome, bordering on hostility. Stephanie’s heard the rumours claiming that the Manor was built on the site of human sacrifice, but like most right thinking modern people, she doesn’t believe it. The atmosphere as she walks along the drive, hitching her skirts to avoid puddles, is making her reconsider. She sees a dark ominous shadow moving fast across the lawn, but when she blinks the shadow is gone.

On a clear day, Stephanie had been able to look out to the mainland from her cramped garret near the docks, and see the faint outline of the Manor’s rooftop. Wayne Manor is a large, imposing mansion, set up near the cliff tops of the mainland and overlooking the islands that make up Gotham City. The gothic styling of the building has since fallen out of fashion, but there’s no denying the forceful statement of the ornately carved stonework on the massive lintels over the many windows and balustrades surrounding the roof, or the grand sweeping staircase leading up to the menacing front door.

Stephanie bypasses the large frontage and makes her way around the side of the building, hoping that the servants’ entrance isn’t too hard to find. She’s almost at the stables when a door swings open and a voice bellows “AND STAY OUT OF MY KITCHEN, TINY TIM, OR I SWEAR I’LL SWING FOR YOU!” followed by a small black haired boy who blinks up at Stephanie with hands full of jelly tarts and smear of what Stephanie hopes is also jelly across his mouth.

“’Lo.” The boy mumbles around a mouthful of tart before he swallows. “You didn’t see me.”

“Didn’t I?” Stephanie says, eyebrows raised, and the boy shakes his head vehemently. “Well, since I didn’t see you, I suppose there’s no point in saying I’m looking for a Mr Pennyworth, is there?”

“He’s in there.” The boy points to the open door he’d just stumbled through. “But I’d wait ‘til Jason’s outta his snit if I were you.”

“Jason?” Stephanie asks despite herself.

“The cook. He’s right mean with the wooden spoon.” The boy says mournfully. “It’s not my fault he makes such good tarts.” And before Stephanie can respond the boy takes off, running for the stables.

“A cook in a snit is never a good thing.” Stephanie says to the wall beside her. The wall doesn’t respond, which is for the best, all things considered. Stephanie heaves in a sigh, grimacing as the stays of her corset dig in with the lungful of unfamiliarly clean air. She gingerly knocks on the open door frame of what appears to be the kitchen. “Hello?” Stephanie says, peering inside, only to rear back as an angry, scowling face appears before her. The shock of white striped hair in a sea of otherwise black fringe distracts her from the snarl.

“You ain’t Tiny Tim.” The young man says, and Stephanie realises that this is the cook who’d bellowed earlier. Jason, she thinks.

“Not last time I checked, Sir, no.” Stephanie blurts out, and the cook, steps back from where he’d been crowding her. He’s a young man in his late teens, tall and broad shouldered with a flour covered apron around his waist and what would be a pleasant face, if not for the dark scowl causing his thick eyebrows to draw together, and his lip to curl up derisively. 

“You the new chambermaid then?” The cook asks, turning his back on her to make his way over to the big wide table and what is probably the largest joint of beef Stephanie’s ever seen in her life.

“Hopefully, sir. I’m looking for a Mr Pennyworth.” Stephanie adjusts her grip on her bag and holds out the card. The cook barely glances over while wiping his hands on his apron.

“Mr Pennyworth’s the butler. He’ll be along shortly. Stay out of the way until then.” The cook says, grabbing a bunch of herbs and tying them to the joint in some sort of pattern. 

“You’re the cook?” Stephanie asks after what feels like an age, but wasn’t more than a minute or two of awkward and heavy silence.

“Yes.” The man looks up from his work to glare at her. “Mr Todd to you.”

“Yessir, Mr Todd.” Stephanie nods. Her mother always told her that the best way to get on in life is to keep the cook and whoever’s in charge of the booze on your side.

“A bit of advice for you, new girl. Keep your mouth shut, your nose clean, and your eyes out of Mr Wayne’s business and you’ll be fine.” Mr Todd smirks meanly. “If you don’t, you won’t.” He punctuates the last bit with a vicious tug of the string around the joint, and Stephanie can’t help but imagine that bit of string around her neck. She gulps, wondering if it’s too late to get back on the cart and get back to the city.

“Miss Brown, I take it?” An older man with a white moustache and pince-nez says, saving Stephanie from having to reply.

“Yessir?” Stephanie says giving a little curtsey, the way she’d been told to by one of her few friendly neighbours.

“I am Mr Pennyworth. Do you have your letter of recommendation?” The gentleman says, with a small smile. Stephanie blinks; the friendliness is somehow unexpected after her greetings from Tim and Mr Todd.

“Yessir.” Stephanie says, taking the letter out of her bag and handing it over to Mr Pennyworth, who reads it quickly before nodding. 

“This is more than adequate. Thank you, Miss Brown. Mr Grayson will give you the tour of the Manor after your things are stowed in your rooms.” Mr Pennyworth says, turning to Mr Todd and giving him a significant look.

“Really? Can’t Dickie do it?” Mr Todd huffs, and receives another look from Mr Pennyworth. “Fine. Oi, girl. Your bag.” Mr Todd holds out his hand and glares. Stephanie looks down at her bag and back at Mr Todd’s hand before slowly passing him her bag.

“Ah, Mr Grayson, exactly who I wanted to see.” Mr Pennyworth says as a handsome young man with charming smile and the devil in his eyes, saunters into the kitchen, smiling wider at the glare Mr Todd gives him.

“How can I help, Mr Pennyworth?” Mr Grayson says, perching against the dresser full of crockery, his ponytail of inky black hair slipping over his shoulder and calling attention to the light grey silk of his uniform waistcoat. 

“Miss Brown has just joined our employ here, and requires the tour and the list of her duties. I’ve no doubt you can manage to do both.” Mr Pennyworth says with a twinkle in his eye.

“Aww, but I was about to help Jason with dinner!” Mr Grayson says brightly.

“Get out of my kitchen, Dickie! Out!” Mr Todd yells, throwing a dirty dishcloth at Mr Grayson.

“On the other hand, I’m sure I can show this lovely young lady around!” Mr Grayson smiles at Stephanie, winking. “Shall we get going before Jason comes at us with a meat cleaver, Brown?”

“Uh, sure.” Stephanie flicks her gaze over to the murderous look on Mr Todd’s face. “I mean, yessir.”

“Sir! I like that!” Mr Grayson laughs, holding his hand out to gesture Stephanie through the door. “Mr Grayson is fine. I’m the head footman, 'family' but not one of the Family, capital F. Not that there’s much family, it’s just Mr Wayne and his wife right now.” 

***

“Your main duties will be cleaning up the fireplaces, lighting the fires in the mornings, hanging the washing out and basically anything else we might need done.”Mr Grayson explains as he leads Stephanie along a bare corridor and out through a thick green baize door to another corridor, this one with tasteful paintings and the occasional small table with a plant or knickknack on it. “We’re actually quite easy going here, a consequence of Mr Wayne and his wife being so _eccentric_.”

“Yes, Mr Grayson.” Stephanie says, tearing her eyes away from a painting with a mostly naked lady demurely looking at the viewer with only a gauze-y veil to cover her unmentionables.

“The hierarchy here’s pretty simple, Mr and Mrs Wayne at the top, obviously, then Mr Pennyworth as butler, myself and Mr Todd as head footman and cook, respectively.” Mr Grayson says, smiling slightly with mischief in his eyes at how flustered Stephanie is. “Then it’s Kelley the housemaid. You’re under her, and below you is Duke, who looks after our horses and drives the Waynes where they need to be. Simple, right?” 

“Yes, Mr Grayson.” It is simple, but that’s a fair amount of names to try and remember at once, and Stephanie hopes she’ll have a day or two to adjust before she’s expected to get everyone’s names right.

“So, how many of us have you met so far?” Mr Grayson asks, ushering her along. Stephanie’s eyes slip to the low ponytail at his neck, wondering how he manages to get his hair so shiny.

“Ah, oh! You, Mr Pennyworth, Mr Todd, and someone called Tiny Tim?” Stephanie says as Mr Grayson escorts her across a wide lobby tiled in black and white, with a grand sweeping staircase opposite what can only be the front door for the family and guests. The staircase is large and splits in the middle after the first flight of stairs to go to the two different wings, and is carpeted in a deep rich red. 

“Better not let Tim catch you calling him that, he can be vicious when he wants revenge.” Mr Grayson chuckles, opening a door to the parlour. Again, it’s fully carpeted, with several plushly cushioned sofas, all centred around a large ornate fireplace.

“Does he work here?” Stephanie takes in the room, the placement of the windows and the good condition of the hearth, nodding her head at Mr Grayson, and he gestures her out.

“Actually Tim _used_ to look after the horses.” Mr Grayson adjusts his cuffs under his jacket, voice lowering as if he’s confiding in Stephanie. It makes her lean forward despite herself.

“Really?” Stephanie tilts her head in the way that Mrs McGinnis calls winsome and endearing. Mr Grayson grins and walks backwards to the next room, not looking away from her.

“One day I’m walking past the stables and I hear sneezing. I walk in, and there’s Tim, sneezing like anything, sitting on the horse backwards trying to brush him down, nearly toppling off because he can’t reach both sides!” Mr Grayson laughs, and Stephanie can feel herself blushing slightly. She’s sure he must affect the ladies a lot. “...And that’s when we learnt he was allergic and far too small to be able to do the job. So now he’s a footman.”

“Oh my. He is rather small, isn’t he?” Stephanie says, walking into what is probably Mr Wayne’s study. There’s a large heavy desk, and the walls are lined with books. The fireplace is small, but near the desk and full of logs rather than coal. Mr Wayne probably prefers the smell of woodsmoke.

“He’s only twelve, he’ll sprout up yet.” Mr Grayson walks over to the window, pulling the curtains open wider with a faint frown. Stephanie’s eyebrows rise up. Tim’s _twelve_? Stephanie has almost two feet of height on him, and she’s _fifteen_!

“If you say so, Mr Grayson.” Stephanie says dubiously, keeping her face as blank and angelic as she can manage when Mr Grayson looks over at her.

“I should probably tell you about the Manor. Mr Pennyworth likes to quiz us sometimes.” Mr Grayson walks over to the door, stepping into the corridor and Stephanie hurries after him. “Right, well, the land the Manor is on was first bought by Nathaniel Wayne in 1640. He never did anything with it, though, too swampy.” Mr Grayson recites as they walk down to the library. It looks much the same as Mr Wayne’s study, only three times as large with two fireplaces and wide tall windows with seats to curl up in while reading a good book. “Apparently Thomas Wayne was a demon cultist, and committed human sacrifice on the land in 1765. He even had a nickname, Dr Hurt! We’re pretty sure that’s utter bunk, but it makes for a good ghost story don’t you think?”

“Very salacious, Mr Grayson!” Stephanie puts an appropriate amount of shock and glee into her voice, and Mr Grayson snorts at her look of much faked surprise.

“The ‘current’ Manor was commissioned by Darius Wayne in 1795, from Nathan Van Derm, and the west wing was added 1835 by Charles, and his sons Joshua and Solomon Zebidiah, but they abandoned the place in 1850 after Joshua died in mysterious circumstances! There’s a rumour that while helping the underground railway he was murdered, but we don’t actually know what happened.” Mr Grayson tidies a pile of books on the large round table in the middle of the library, peeking at Stephanie through the shorter locks at the front of his head.

“Oh gosh.” Stephanie gushes, running her hand over the back of a chair covered with a large throw blanket. It’s so soft under her fingertips it’s like a kitten.

“The Waynes returned to the Manor in 1870, when Mr Wayne’s parents added on new gardens, but Mr Wayne moved to the city after they died.” Mr Grayson continues, already leaving the library. Stephanie decides to touch that blanket every time she comes in to clean. “We came back to live here about five years ago after Mr Wayne did a little more building work on the basements, updated the plumbing, improved the drive, and laid out a telephone line!”

“We?” Stephanie says catching up to Mr Grayson.

“Mr and Mrs Wayne, Mr Pennyworth, Tim, Jason and myself. We’ve been together at least that long.” Mr Grayson says somewhat mysteriously. 

***

After Mr Grayson finishes the full tour of the Manor, not including those few rooms locked up and not in use, it’s almost suppertime. He escorts Stephanie back to the kitchen for a plain meal of soup and bread, Mr Todd sitting at the head of the table watching over the rest of the staff as they eat while Mr Pennyworth and Mr Grayson serve Mr and Mrs Wayne in the dining room.

Kelley, the housemaid (“Call me Carrie, luv.”) shows Stephanie to their shared room and then gives her some time to unpack and settle in for the night. Stephanie is relieved at the chance to be alone for a few moments. While she instinctively likes Carrie, the day has been rather overwhelming. Stephanie opens up her bag of rather meagre belongings, taking out her best dress and carefully folding it up into one of her two drawers in the chest of drawers. Next are her underclothes. She lays her nightdress out on the bed, sets her hairbrush down on the small bedside table, along with her little box of hairpins, so that she can begin taking down her hair from its tightly coiled and braided style for the night. 

The gable room that she shares with Carrie is small, two single beds crammed in by a chimney stack, the chest of drawers under the small window and a small wardrobe taking up the remaining space. On inspecting it, Stephanie discovers that there are four maid uniforms hanging up inside, three of them tagged with small slips of paper that read S. Brown. Stephanie frowns faintly for a moment before realising that she has so many for a good reason. Three allows her one to be in the wash, one to be worn and one spare for emergencies. 

She glances out of the small window, and is treated to a view of the lawns, pond and mazes all illuminated by the moon, high in the sky. A sea fog has rolled in, hiding the clifftop terrace and balustrades from sight completely, and is coating the gardens with a thick layer of mist, lending it an unearthly, mystical quality; the kind Stephanie has only ever seen in paintings and illustrations in books displayed in galleries and bookshops that she’s never been able to afford to buy from.

With the braid of her hair heavy on her shoulder, Stephanie turns away from the window and begins to undress. Folding up her clothes, she places them in the drawer with her best dress. Slipping into her nightdress, she climbs into her bed, feet sliding under the covers. Lying back, Stephanie breathes deeply and luxuriates in her new comfortable bed.

***

“Shove it in me!” Mr Grayson cries out and Stephanie blinks and stops before opening the kitchen door. What on earth? Steeling herself she opens the door slowly, only to see Mr Grayson wrestling with Mr Todd. Mr Grayson is desperately trying to get Mr Todd to put a spoon of whatever it is that smells so delicious now that she’s opened the door into his mouth. Mr Todd is trying to shove the older boy away from him with little success. Stephanie stands in the doorway and gawps at the scene. Stephanie wonders if they’ve been friends longer than Mr Grayson had implied they were.

“Damn it, Dickie! Leggo!” Mr Todd snarls, struggling to get away without dropping the spoon. 

“No, give me a taste.” Mr Grayson wheedles, pouting like a child, and Stephanie wonders how someone with such poise in front of guests to the Manor can act so immaturely in private. “Come on, Jason, please?” 

“No.” Mr Todd snaps, tilting the spoon so that it drips its contents down his apron. “Wait for supper like everyone else, you menace!” The wafting aroma of the stew finally hits Stephanie’s nose and she understands why Mr Grayson wants a taste so desperately. It smells incredibly delicious, her mouth is watering. She’s about to speak up when Mr Grayson starts talking again.

“Please? I’ll make it up to you later. All fair like.” Mr Grayson says, coyly seductive. 

“No.” Mr Todd swallows, going a dull red for a moment, before pushing Mr Grayson away. Stephanie can’t blame Mr Todd for flushing, when Mr Grayson turns up the charm all the way, it’s a heady thing.

“You’re mean. I bet Tim would have given me a taste.” Mr Grayson sighs, moving back a single step and hanging off of Mr Todd’s rather impressive for his age shoulders.

“Tim is too tiny to reach the stove without a stool.” Mr Todd scoffs. “And even if he weren’t, I wouldn’t let him cook. Remember last time?”

“Oh yeah. That was pretty bad.” Mr Grayson winces, pretty face scrunching up in displeasure. This is the perfect time for Stephanie to make a noise and pretend she hasn’t seen anything that went on before, but something makes her hold still. Cassandra’s always said that Stephanie’s curiosity gets the better of her at the worst times.

“Bad? It was inedible. And that’s me sayin’ that.” Mr Todd huffs; and Stephanie thinks it’s odd he hasn’t tried to shove Mr Grayson off him considering how hard he was trying to get away before.

“Just remembering it is awful!” Mr Grayson grimaces the tip of his tongue sticking out of his mouth. “I can taste it on my tongue, right now. I need something to make it better.” Mr Grayson winks, saucily.

“You can’t have any stew, Dickie.” Mr Todd says flatly, grabbing for some herbs and throwing the little bundle into the pot.

“Aww, come on!” Mr Grayson pouts, leaning on Mr Todd more heavily.

“No.” Mr Todd says again, even flatter.

“I need something sweet. Give me some sugar...” Mr Grayson wheedles. And the scene in front of her is finally getting a little too private for Stephanie to feel comfortable with.

“Um... Should I come back later?” Stephanie finally says, hoping they say yes. But at least she’s managed to speak! 

“No. You’re fine.” Mr Todd says, darting back and grabbing something out of a thick ceramic jar. He shoves what looks like a small candy into Mr Grayson’s mouth. Mr Grayson grins like he’s won something. “There, now shut up and stop bothering me.”

“But I wanted something creamier...” Mr Grayson smirks at Mr Todd with a lewdness Stephanie hasn’t seen since the _Docks_.

“GET OUT OF MY KITCHEN!” Mr Todd yells, face going red again.

“You’re so grumpy, Jay, you should relax more.” Mr Grayson calls out as he skips away from Mr Todd and heads towards Stephanie. “Don’t you think, Brown?”

“I’d quite like to eat tonight, Mr Grayson, so... No.” Stephanie says biting her lip at Mr Grayson’s outrageous sauciness.

“You can stay for now, Brown.” Mr Todd grumps, turning back to the stove top and stirring the stewpot. Stephanie breathes a sigh of relief that Mr Todd’s not angry with her.

***

Stephanie’s roped Carrie into helping her hang the washing out on the lines set up on the lawns behind the kitchens. With two baskets, one on each hip each, they carry the washing out from the scullery, set up with the fancy new laundry washing machines that clean the clothes without human hands involved. Carrie chats away happily and Stephanie joins in, the strong sunshine warming and drying the sheets and shirts almost before they’re hung up. They’ve hung up three baskets of washing when Stephanie spots the girl.

Far over the other side of the expansive lawns and just before the rows of hedgemazes, by the large pond that’s usually filled with ducks, stands a girl, probably Stephanie’s own age, with long loose dark hair hanging down straight and not moving with the light breeze. She’s dressed entirely in black, and while Stephanie can’t make out her features, she knows her eyes are blazing with intensity.

“Carrie?” Stephanie says, feeling a chill run down her spine. “Who’s that?”

“Who’s who?” Carries says, hanging a sheet up and pegging it in place, before tucking a lock of her bright red hair behind her ear.

“That girl over there, by the pond.” Stephanie says, pointing over, unable to look away.

“Stephie, luv, there’s no one by the pond.” Carries says, sounding worried as she places a comforting hand on Stephanie’s shoulder.

“But she’s right there? You can’t see her? She’s wearing black.” Stephanie tears her eyes away from the girl to look at Carrie.

“There’s nothing there, pet. Now, run along to the kitchen.” Carrie says, voice firm. Stephanie opens her mouth to protest, but sighs instead. The look on Carrie’s face isn’t to be argued with, so Stephanie brushes her hands down her skirt and nods, turning away from the cliff top to head indoors.

The girl is still standing there, in the corner of her eye as Stephanie walks past quickly. Stephanie squeezes her eyes shut as she comes off the lawn onto the gravel road leading to the stables and the kitchens. With a burst of speed she enters the kitchen, and closes the door behind her with her heart pounding under her ribs.

Taking a deep breath, Stephanie takes the three steps over to the sink, to peer out of the window, out over the lawns. The girl in the black dress is still there, out past the pond, and staring right back at her.

“What are you lollygagging there for?” Mr Todd snarls, thumping a basket of potatoes down on the kitchen table and startling Stephanie’s gaze away from the window. “Honestly, maids staring out the window at girls who aren’t there. Be off with you.”

Stephanie silently gathers her skirts and slips off to the scullery to fetch her basket and get to work cleaning out the fireplace in the library. It’s not until she’s on her knees, sweeping ash and dust into the pan, that she realises that she hadn’t told Mr Todd who or what she was looking out the window at. 

***

“All you need to do is stir that pot once a minute, until I tell you to stop.” Mr Todd tells Stephanie stiffly, thumping a bunch of vegetables down onto a chopping board with more aggravation that Stephanie really thinks preparing dinner warrants.

“I can manage that, Mr Todd.” Stephanie assures him, taking hold of the wooden spoon and moving it around the pot once before letting it go again.

“If you can, you’re doin’ better’n Mr Grayson and Tiny Tim, already.” Mr Todd snorts, taking up a large knife, topping and tailing a bunch of carrots.

“Are they really that bad?” Stephanie says out loud to no-one in particular, eyeing the clock on the wall to time her stirring.

“Bad? The last time Jason let either of them help, they nearly burnt the kitchen down!” A lady’s voice says, and Stephanie spins to look at the newcomer, as that certainly wasn’t Carrie.

“Mrs Wayne! We weren’t expectin’ you.” Mr Todd’s face goes from grumpy and annoyed to open and smiling at the sight of Mrs Wayne. It makes him look younger and friendly, almost like someone else.

“Well, since my husband’s left me all alone and taken our footman out for the night, I decided to _entertain_ myself.” Mrs Wayne smiles back, sweeping into the room and looking every inch the lady of the manor in her purple jacket dress, with a black silk cravat and cat’s eye opal earrings that Stephanie is sure could pay off all of Cass’ doctor’s bills several times over. 

“It’s always nice having you down here, Ma’am.” Mr Todd says, in a softer voice than Stephanie’s ever heard him use, except for possibly with Mr Grayson that one time she saw them in the library, reading a book together. “Ah, you met Brown yet?”

“No, not yet.” Mrs Wayne says walking over to stand next to Mr Todd and gently pat him on the face, before she turns to Stephanie. “So you’re the new girl. I hope Jason’s been as welcoming as I’d expect him to be.”

“Uh, yes, Ma’am?” Stephanie says, hands automatically stirring the pot even while she’s attempting a halfway decent curtsey.

“Good.” Mrs Wayne reaches up to ruffle Mr Todd’s hair, as if he’s not almost the same height as her. “That’s what I like to hear.” Mr Todd flushes, looking pleased.

“Brown’s doing well.” Mr Todd says, ducking his head and definitely not looking Stephanie’s direction.

“Excellent.” Mrs Wayne smiles and Stephanie’s struck by how pretty she is, with her long dark hair pinned up, letting her green eyes spark with warmth and humour. “If you have any problems, you should come straight to me.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Stephanie says, the rote reply now as automatic as the ‘Yes, Sir’s she says to Mr Pennyworth.

“I used to be with the circus, and after that, an actress, so I know exactly how strange it is to adjust to a drafty old house like this...” Mrs Wayne smiles and shrugs, and Stephanie realises why Mrs Wayne seems so comfortable down in the kitchen. “And if you ever want to know how to use a whip, I’m your girl.”

“A whip? Yes Ma’am!” Stephanie imagines Mrs Wayne cutting down swathes of drunk and disreputable men, like a true heroine. The thought that Stephanie might be able to stand next to her is infinitely appealing. Cass would love it too, Stephanie thinks.

“So, what are you cooking up for us tonight then?” Mrs Wayne says, leaning into Mr Todd’s space with a grin.

“’S a stew, Ma’am.” Mr Todd doesn’t lean into Mrs Wayne, but Stephanie gets the feeling that if she weren’t there he just might.

“Oh lovely.” Mrs Wayne says, and then taps at her mouth with a finger in thought. “Say, I couldn’t get you to change tomorrow night’s menu, could I?

“Course, Ma’am.” Mr Todd says, without any hesitation. The one time Stephanie had seen Tim complain about what was for supper, Mr Todd had glared at him with the kind of intensity that could have melted glass. Stephanie makes sure to stir the pot.

“In that case, I was hoping for Octopus as a starter, Stewed Eels as the main, and Conservative Pudding for desserts.” Mrs Wayne says with a devilish smile.

“I can do that, Ma’am, but aren’t they all the foods Mr Wayne hates the most?” Mr Todd says, wiping his hands on his apron in thought.

“Yes.” Mrs Wayne says with absolutely no hesitation, and a grin that implies this is retribution for some misdeed her husband has committed.

“Oh. I see.” Mr Todd grins conspiratorially, clearly enjoying the thought of punishing their employer. “I can definitely do that then.”

“Excellent, and _that_ is why you’re my favourite, Jay.” Mrs Wayne says, sending him a soft smile.

“Aww, Ma’am.” Mr Todd ducks his head again shyly.

“So, is there anything down here I can help with?” Mrs Wayne steps back, allowing for some space between them. “The thought of sitting in the drawing room and embroidering or reading another book makes me want to kill someone.”

“Y’can chop these vegetables while I make some bread?” Mr Todd suggests, holding up the bunch of carrots with a hopeful look on his face.

“I can and will.” Mrs Wayne nods, taking the knife from Mr Todd and bumping him out of the way of the chopping board with her hip. “It’s been too long since I got to use my knife skills.”

Stephanie stares at the scene, confused. She’d thought that Mr Todd and Mr Grayson were close, but here he is, flirting with Mrs Wayne! Maybe she’d been wrong after all. Mr Todd and Mrs Wayne continue chatting happily, complimenting each other quite easily, but Stephanie notices Mr Todd’s gaze flicking to both of the doors every so often, as if he’s waiting for someone to come in, which is curious.

It can’t be that he’s worried about being caught flirting with the boss’ wife, he’s doing it so openly in front of Stephanie, after all. Perhaps he’s hoping to make Mr Grayson jealous, she wonders.

***

Letter from Miss Stephanie Brown:

_“My Dearest Darling Cassandra,  
I hope my letter finds you feeling better, and that you’ve been resting that ankle. If you’ve been walking on it before it can heal, I’ll be very cross with you. Thank Missus McGinnis for reading this out to you, won’t you?_

_Well, I got to Wayne Manor alright. Got the job alright, too. The work’s not too hard, but there’s a lot less staff here than you’d think. There’s Mr and Missus Wayne, of course, but I’ve only seen him in passing. The butler, Mr Pennyworth, is nice. Mr Grayson, the head footman, is pretty and too charming by half, but there’s only one footman under him, Tim and he seems more interested in stealing food than working. But then, he’s about twelve. The cook is Mr Todd, and he’s got a right temper on him. I don’t think he likes me very much. Apart from me, there’s Carrie the housemaid, also nice, and Duke the hostler, and he gets roped into any scullery work too, poor thing._

_Everything here is new, posh and expensive. How the other half live! The Manor is huge, you could get everyone from our building to live here and still have room for more! Which means a lot of fireplaces to clean and refill and light in the morning, but that’s no trouble for me. I mostly do the cleaning and fireplaces, and sometimes Carrie helps me with hanging the laundry, because we’ve machines to clean it! Can you imagine that? The wonders of technology, I put the sheets in the tub and they come out clean!_

_I promise I’ll write again soon,_  
_All my love,_  
_Your ever loving Stephanie._

***

Mr Wayne’s study is always the last room to have the fireplace cleaned and refreshed in the morning, on strict and explicit instructions from Mr Wayne himself. So when Stephanie bustles in there at ten o’clock that morning, she’s earlier than she usually is, and doesn’t notice anything unusual. She opens the curtains wide, letting light into the dark room. The papers on the desk are as neat and tidy as they always are, not that Stephanie stops to read them as she turns from the curtains to the fireplace. 

She sweeps up the ash from yesterday’s fire, adds two very small logs to the top of the pile in the firegrate, and makes sure that the poker and brush are hanging from the stand with the tongs and shovel. She refills the tinder box and tapers, before turning to make sure that the rest of the room is as tidy as it should be, barring the things that Mr Wayne has obviously left out deliberately.

At first glance, everything is as it should be. It’s not until she hears a strange rush of air that she realises anything is wrong. It sounds like the wind between the narrow alleys by the docks, almost a whistling, and Stephanie frowns. She checks the windows, but they’re all latched tight, and more importantly, she can’t see the trees in the distance sway with the wind. Turning back onto the room, Stephanie follows her ears to the source.

She stops by the grandfather clock, where the sound is the loudest. She looks it over; it was dusted yesterday by Carrie, so it’s spotless. When she looks down to the carpet, the faint indentations there are closer to the feet than they were yesterday. But that makes no sense, Mr Pennyworth had been very clear not to move any of the clocks at all lest they lose time. So how could such a large clock have moved forward two or so inches by itself? Stephanie walks around the clock, noting the slight recess behind it. 

“Brown?” A deep voice startles her, and it’s only years of not showing weakness that stop her from jumping. “It _is_ Brown, isn’t it?” Stephanie turns and there in the doorway is Mr Wayne himself. Stephanie recognises him from the painting of him and his wife above the stairs in the lobby.

“Uh, yes, Sir! It is, Sir!” Stephanie blurts out, and the faint frown pulling between Mr Wayne’s impressively thick brows smoothes out. He’s a handsome man, well built and towering over Stephanie. She’s had enough experience with men towering over her to hate the feeling violently. 

“Is there something wrong with the clock, Brown?” Mr Wayne says, giving her a small smile that Stephanie thinks is meant to put her at ease. What actually does put her at ease is when Mr Wayne walks in over to the desk, allowing her an obstacle free escape route from the room.

“Uh. Well. It seems to have moved forward, Sir?” Stephanie says, slightly unsure of how Mr Wayne will react. “From the wall, Sir, as well as in keeping time.”

“I see.” Mr Wayne says, smile growing and demeanour shifting even more to amused and relaxed. “We can’t have our timepieces growing legs and running off on us, now, can we?”

“No Sir.” Stephanie says, dipping her head. Mr Wayne seems to be taking her investigating with good humour which is the most she could have asked for.

“I daresay it’s my wife playing a little prank on me. She’s often complaining how often I stay too late in here. She probably asked Grayson and Todd to adjust it.” Mr Wayne actually chuckles, and Stephanie wonders if this is something that happens often and without punishment for the staff. “No need to worry Brown, run along and see to your other duties. I’ll mention this to Mr Pennyworth, and see if we can’t get Old Grandpa there back in his rightful place.”

“Yes Sir.” Stephanie says, risking a small smile herself. Mr Grayson had said the Waynes were eccentric, and Stephanie thinks she likes this kind of ‘eccentric’ more than the other types she’s been warned about by the old maids who used to be in service.

“Good girl. You’re doing a grand job. Keep up the good work.” Mr Wayne says with genuine warmth and Stephanie fights down the urge to blush at the praise.

“Yes Sir! Thank you!” Stephanie bobs a curtsey and hurries over to the fireplace to collect her basket, bobbing another curtsey as she leaves Mr Wayne to whatever work he actually does.

***

Stephanie’s hanging out the laundry alone when she sees the girl again. The wind is whipping about something _fierce_ , but there’s at least no threat of rain or dark storm clouds overhead. She double clips every item anyway, just to be sure. The girl seems less menacing this time, the aura of malevolence still there, but not directed at Stephanie herself. That’s what lets Stephanie walk away from the washing lines, over the lawn, closer to the pond.

“What’s your name?” Stephanie calls out into the wind, hand going up to her head to hold her cap and hair in place. 

“I -- ---Ne --Nor. Beware, child!” The figure says, the wind stealing half her words away, despite how carefully Stephanie’s listening out for them.

“What? I can’t hear you!” Stephanie yells, stepping forward as the wind rips her cap off. She runs after it, all too aware that her hair is coming down in a tumble around her ears, whipping nearly viciously against her face and shoulders. 

“W--- --Nor is my ----. Such in--licaci-- shan’t -e -orne!” The girls snarls out, lifting one hand to point towards the Manor, and Stephanie feels her malevolence rise as her face twists from pretty to ugly with hate. 

“Nor? Nora? Is that your name?” Stephanie yells. She shakes her head when there’s no reply. “Honestly, this is no way to communicate! Girls in ponds popping up to give ominous warnings and then not even making sure they’re heard! This is 1895, for goodness’ sake! Send a telegram or something.” She stomps back over to the washing lines, hanging up the last few pieces furiously, adding more pegs than she really needs, before making her way inside to fix her hair.

***

On an unseasonably warm day Mr Wayne declares that the day’s luncheon will be held on the lawns overlooking the cliffs, as a picnic. Mr Todd had sworn a blue streak in the kitchens at the news, working furiously to replace the planned fish with sauce course that was to be the mains, with more easily portable dishes. Luckily he’d made several savoury pies earlier that morning, and in a whirl of flashing knives and dark glowers at anyone unlucky enough to need to enter the kitchen, he produces enough sandwiches and candied fruit to feed a small army.

The gardens of Wayne Manor are beautiful, massive green lawns, with well cared for shrubs and bushes sectioning off the grounds into separate areas with different functions. The pond is over to the right of the large grassy lawns, with the edge of the boxtree hedgemaze resting up by its shore, and hiding the fruit orchards beyond from view of the lawns. A large wooded area to the left of the lawns continues from the grass, up to the estate wall. Even in the bright sun of today, there’s a faint aura of malice, as if those woods have been uprooted from an old fairytale of danger and woe, only to be supplanted here in the Manor grounds. It’s an aura that permeates the entire grounds, even Mr Pennyworth’s prized rose garden, at times. Stephanie had noticed it on her way up the drive, but put it out of her mind with the worry over being employed. Today though, the lawns feel friendly and welcoming.

The staff have set up a small table with two chairs for Mr and Mrs Wayne, with a larger table off to the side to hold the food and drink, all of which is ferried out to the table by Carrie, Stephanie, Tim and Duke. Behind the table, a blanket has been spread out for them to sit on while they eat; a small luxury that Mr Wayne insists on. Mr Grayson and Mr Pennyworth are to stand behind the Waynes, serving them during their meal.

The table is covered in no time with the large savoury pies, plates of sandwiches, and Mr Todd somehow managed to produce a scrumptious looking treacle tart to go with the candied fruit. Jugs of lemonade and ginger beer finish off the feast, and Stephanie’s stomach is growling by the time the Waynes finally venture outside. They take their place at the small table, with Mr Grayson and Mr Pennyworth following a few steps behind. The last one out is Mr Todd, who scowls up at the sky, as if he’s blaming it for the change in plans, and wants to make his displeasure known as clearly as possible.

After the Waynes have been served, Mr Wayne waves a hand in the staff’s direction, and Tim darts forward to grab some sandwiches. Unfortunately for him, Mr Todd grabs him by the collar, “Ladies first, Tiny Tim. Control yourself.”

Tim looks up at him, eyes wide and starting to grow wet. “But Jason!” he pleads, doing his best to look pathetic and helpless. Mr Todd isn’t buying what he’s selling at all, though.

“Don’t you ‘but me’, Tiny Tim. You should use the manners Mr Pennyworth expects from us...” Mr Todd tells him in a firm tone. “Why you gotta do this every time beats me. You know you ain’t gonna get there first.”

Carrie and Stephanie fill their plates with ham sandwiches and slices of chicken pie and take their seats on the blanket. Once the boys have served themselves, they too sit on the blanket, and Stephanie ends up next to Duke, the one person she’s spoken to the least since she came here.

“Do they do this often?” Stephanie asks him, taking a sip from her lemonade. It’s refreshing in this warmth, zinging on her tongue pleasantly. “The spontaneous picnics, I mean.”

“More during the summer months, but Mr Wayne tries to do one every so often. He thinks they’re romantic. That, and he likes to use them to thank the staff.” Duke says with a wide smile. He’s relaxed and soaking up the sunlight, and Stephanie thinks he must be glad to get away from the horses for once.

“Don’t think Mr Todd is too impressed.” Stephanie grins, nodding her head in his direction. “If looks could kill...”

“Ha. Give it a few minutes and then that’ll change.” Duke snorts, his deep brown eyes sparkling with amusement, while he rubs a hand over his tightly curled hair.

“It will?” Stephanie can’t imagine what could possible improve Mr Todd’s mood. He’s in what Tim calls a ‘right proper snit’. 

“Oh yeah. Once he stops glaring at the sky, and the luncheon table, and starts looking at Mr...” Duke pauses, a flash of panic on his face before he recovers. “Um. At other things.”

“Hmm. I’ll look out for that.” Stephanie grins, trying to bite delicately into her sandwich but managing to bite the thing in half instead. She can’t really regret not looking ladylike in front of Duke, this sandwich is damn delicious. For the life of her, she can’t work out how Mr Todd can make something as simple as a ham sandwich so good, but he does.

By the time Stephanie’s made it through another sandwich and half of her slice of chicken pie, Mr Todd’s stopped scowling and has relaxed a little. He does however keep glancing over to Mr Grayson, every minute or so. A strange look passes over his face, open and wanting, until he remembers himself and that others are present and he forces himself to look away. 

Stephanie has no such compunctions and her gaze flicks away from Mr Todd to Mr Grayson. She’s somehow not in the slightest bit surprised to see that Mr Grayson is giving Mr Todd the exact same longing look when he’s turned away. If Stephanie were a less astute person, she might say that Mr Grayson is staring at the still half full table of food, but his eye line is shifted over so slightly away from it, and there’s no doubt that he’s staring at Mr Todd. It’s as if they’re taking turns, while still unaware that they’re the object of the other’s gaze. 

It’s a sad thing to witness, Stephanie thinks, and her chest aches in sympathy. She looks down at her own plate, and seeing it empty she gets up to refill it, trying not to think about the frustration and loneliness she can see in both of their eyes. She sits down and bites into her third sandwich, missing Cassandra something fierce.

***

Stephanie puts the last plate of the evening away in the cupboard, after checking there are no more pots or pans to be put away. The kitchen is spotless, and the pudding for tomorrow’s dessert is hanging in its muslin pouch in the pantry overnight, so that Mr Todd can cook it in the morning, but the cook himself is nowhere to be found, which is odd.

Not that Stephanie spends any of her precious free time with him, but it’s still strange to not see him lord it over anyone else in the kitchens. He must be in the library, devouring a book with a voracity that makes Stephanie’s eyebrows rise. Mr Wayne’s generous enough to allow his staff to read his books, and in fact encourages literacy as much as possible without interfering with their duties. Stephanie herself is making her way slowly through the first Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling, as Mr Wayne has just purchased the second volume, and if Stephanie wants to read that, then she should read volume one first.

Looking at the clock on the wall, Stephanie has about an hour before bedtime and she decides to try her best to get through another chapter tonight. Making her way to the library, the ground floor of the house is dark and still, and somewhat eerie in the candlelight. She shakes off the feeling that someone is watching her progress through the manor, even though she could have sworn one of the portraits of Thomas Wayne, he of the human sacrifice, had winked at her as she went past. She even doubles back to convince herself it had just been a trick of the light when it happens again. Thomas Wayne leers and quite deliberately winks an eye at her as she stares at him. A chill of fear rolls down her spine and Stephanie takes off, away from the painting. Upon finally reaching the library, she slips inside the door, trying to calm her racing heart. 

“Are you alright, my dear, you look like you’ve seen a ghost!” Mr Pennyworth says, making her jump. She hadn’t noticed he was there.

“Yessir, Mr Pennyworth.” Stephanie says, swallowing quickly. “I gave myself a right fright when I walked past a window and a bird flew into it.” She lies, not wanting to encourage any ghost stories. Not tonight. Not after that awful painting of Thomas Wayne.

“How terrible.” Mr Pennyworth says blandly. “Take a seat and a deep breath, my dear. And perhaps refrain from reading anything too enlivening?”

“Yessir.” Stephanie retrieves the Jungle Book from the side table and looks around for a seat. As well as Mr Pennyworth, Mr Grayson and Tim are also there, curled up together on a sofa and reading from the same book, Adventures On Wings of Night: Flamebird and Nightwing, by Mr CJ Kent. She’s a little surprised that Mr Todd isn’t here too.

“’Lo, Steph.” Tim says, not looking up from the book. The furrow of concentration on his face is quite a thing to behold. He’s staring at the book as if it will reveal the mysteries of the universe to him if he simply looks hard enough.

“Brown.” Mr Grayson nods to her, a small smile on his lips. “Kelley said to keep Wuthering Heights for her, since she’s accompanying Mrs Wayne to the theatre tonight.”

“Will do, Mr Grayson.” Stephanie says, looking over to the table holding Wuthering Heights. Carrie’s been trying to get her to read it, but after reading the first chapter, Stephanie dislikes the characters Cathy enough that she’s putting it off as much as possible. Stephanie finds an empty chair near a lamp and opens her book, looking for the last page she’d read.

“Ha! Jason’s going to be mad he missed this.” Tim says, eyes wide and full of glee.

“Tim! Inside voice.” Mr Grayson hushes him, sending an apologetic look at Mr Pennyworth, and Stephanie herself.

“Where is Mr Todd?” Stephanie asks without thinking. If he’s not here or in the kitchen then the only place he could be is in bed, ill, and that doesn’t bode well for tomorrow’s food.

“Oh... ah...” Mr Grayson blinks, stuttering. “Oh! He’s helping Duke with Mr Wayne! Yes. He’s helping Duke.”

“Oh.” Stephanie turns back to her book, but the answer Mr Grayson gave her was such an obvious lie that she doesn’t know what to do with it. Duke has never needed help with Mr Wayne. And Mr Todd, while an excellent cook, and tall and strong for his age, doesn’t give off an air of helpfulness.

Stephanie manages to read more pages than she thought she’d get through when Mr Pennyworth finally coughs politely, signalling to everyone else in the library that it’s time to leave. As she passes, Stephanie notices the headline of the newspaper that Mr Pennyworth was reading.

“ _THE BAT -SCOURGE OF GOTHAM- AGAIN FAILS TO APPREHEND THE MOST VILE PROF. PYG & MR TOAD IN FURIOUS HORSELESS CARRIAGE CHASE THROUGH GOTHAM STREETS_”

Stephanie thinks back to when Professor Pyg nearly killed her with his giant deathtrap of a machine, only for seconds later the Bat to nearly mow her down after him. She hopes no one got hurt in the most recent chase, but given the way the both of them use Gotham as their own personal race course, she somehow doubts it.

***

Letter from Miss Stephanie Brown:

_“My Dearest Darling Cassandra,  
Are you feeling better? Mrs McGinnis wrote you were walking with a crutch now. I really do miss you terribly. It’s strange not to be sharing a bed with anyone anymore. It’s somewhat cold and lonely. But enough about that! I should tell you the good things!_

_Mr Wayne and his wife really are nice. Very eccentric, but they’re generous and kind and don’t assume wrongdoing as their first reaction when they come across one of the staff not doing something expected! They even have picnics every so often out on the grounds and they give us permission to take the afternoon off and eat and spend a leisurely time in the gardens! It’s wonderful._

_The other thing I should tell you is that I’ve seen a strange girl hanging about the pond. I keep meaning to ask the others who she is, but it seems like every time I try, some event stops me. It’s quite vexing._

_Ah, I want to talk to you about Mr Todd and Mr Grayson, but I fear it’s not something I should put in a letter no matter how much I trust you and Mrs McGinnis. (Sorry, Mrs McGinnis!) They spend a lot of time pretending they aren’t close friends, and it reminds me of how we were when we first met. I wish I could tell them it’s alright, but I daren’t. I’m not in their confidences and so have to stay quiet and watch._

_You’re staying off the streets aren’t you? Those chases with Prof. Pyg and the Bat are so dangerous. I’d say keep to the rooftops, but I don’t want you to fall again. Let me know you’re staying safe, you, Mrs McGinnis and Terry, Colin and Damian too!_

_I promise I’ll write again soon,_  
_All my love,_  
_Your ever loving Stephanie._

***

Carrie is out with Mrs Wayne at some gala or party, Stephanie’s not sure, but it means that she has their room to herself for once. It means she can slip into her nightdress early and lay about as much as she wants without comment, an activity that Stephanie doesn’t get to do much anymore. She flops back on her bed, legs spread akimbo; and thumps her head into the pillow. Her thoughts have been racing lately. Wayne Manor has a great many secrets, and for an inquisitive mind like hers, it’s a treasure trove of inspiration.

While the building has its mysteries, secret passages and hidden behind bookcases safes being two of them, it’s the occupants that get Stephanie’s gears turning. Mr Todd and Mr Grayson’s secret, the one they seem to think they’re covering up so well, but in reality is an open one, known to all, even, possibly Nora, if she was talking about ‘indelicacies’ like Stephanie thinks she was, isn’t on her mind tonight.

No, tonight it’s one of the other secrets. It’s really the little things, she muses. The things that on their own mean absolutely nothing, but when added up all together imply that there is something just a little _off_ in Wayne Manor. It’s Mr Wayne being out nearly every night. The way Mr Grayson and Mr Todd seem to take turns in disappearing off. The fact that Duke accompanies Mr Wayne into the city every night, but never has any stories, interesting or otherwise, to tell. The ‘little pranks’ Mrs Wayne plays on her husband. It’s the hushed conversations that Stephanie sometimes walks into, the ones that stop dead as soon as her presence is noticed, replaced by welcoming smiles and polite brush offs.

But for the life of her, Stephanie can’t work out exactly what all those things add up to, apart from ‘a secret’. And it’s a secret that everyone seems to think she shouldn’t know. Maybe eventually they’ll let her know, when she’s been here long enough to prove herself to Mr and Mrs Wayne and the others. So, for now Stephanie will keep her suspicions to herself, showing that she knows how to keep a secret too. 

But whatever the secret is, utterly unlike the air of malevolence that often surrounds any of Nora’s appearances in front of her, Stephanie has the gut feeling that it’s a benign one. There’s no undercurrent of fear, pain or melancholic resignation in the Manor, so she doesn’t think anyone is being hurt, which is a balm to her burning curiousity. If she thought someone was being cruelly used or abused, Stephanie’s sure she’d give up her employment here to prevent it.

***

“This would be so much easier if we had another maid on staff.” Carrie sighs, passing Stephanie a bundle of dirty sheets to add to the basket nearly ready to slide down the laundry chute.

“Can’t we say that to Mr Pennyworth?” Stephanie grabs a wet towel from the floor and adds it to the basket. “He seems like the type who won’t fire us for just saying it to him.”

“Hmm. I suppose it’s worth a try.” Carrie hums, brushing back a lock of bright red hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear. “Especially if we can convince Mr Todd or Mr Grayson to back us up.” 

“A third pair of hands would mean you’re not constantly having to be pulled away from Mrs Wayne.” Stephanie grins, knowing perfectly well that Mrs Wayne prefers to do most things for herself anyway. “Mr Pennyworth can’t argue that.”

“Ha! He wouldn’t. He’d give us that look that says ‘I don’t need to argue this, you know you’re wrong’ and sigh.” Carrie snorts, picking up Mr Wayne’s shaving brush from the floor where it had fallen in this morning’s rush to get ready. Mr Wayne had overslept for a morning meeting at Wayne Enterprises, and Mr Van had asked Mr Fox to telephone to remind Mr Wayne to come, prompting the rush.

“I’ll ask Mr Todd to help us, if you ask Mr Grayson...” Stephanie says, smoothing down her skirts and giving Carrie her best encouraging smile. She may have a plan in the back of her mind she wants to enact, but it’ll require Carrie and everyone else to work.

“Not that I’m disagreeing, but why am I asking Mr Grayson? I’d have thought you’d prefer not to ask the menacing Mr Todd.” Carrie says with a faintly suspicious frown on her face. She studies Stephanie intently, and Stephanie does her best to look innocent and angelic.

“Naw, Mr Todd’s easy.” Stephanie snorts softly, shaking her head. “You’ve just got to be straightforward and not try to butter him up.”

“And Mr Grayson?” Carrie straightens the remaining towels on the hanger, and sends Stephanie an amused smile.

“I’m not sure how to put it?” Stephanie pauses, gathering her thoughts. “It’s like his friendly smile is there to hide something? And I dunno what, but it’s enough to put me off, even though he’s always been nice to me? 

“Alright. I’ll speak to Mr Grayson next time I see him; and you to Mr Todd, and then we’ll try Mr Pennyworth this evening?” Carrie says with a decisive nod. Stephanie beams at her and picks up the last of the wet towels, throwing it into the basket.

“Yes.” Stephanie nods, crossing her fingers in the folds of her skirt. So far, so good, on her plan. Now all she has to do is talk to Mr Todd without lying or trying to manipulate him. So, that should be easy!

“Good, because we really can’t go on like this much longer.” Carrie sighs, bustling past Stephanie into the Waynes’ bedroom, to pick up the rest of the various linens that need collecting.

***

“I need to bring in the washing and put it away in the linen cupboard, but after that I’m free to chop, Mr Todd.” Stephanie says; staring at the large pile of meat Mr Todd has piled up next to him that he’s glaring at. It’s his ‘I’m slightly overwhelmed but I can’t say so’ glare. Mr Todd has a lot of glares, and Stephanie thinks she’s worked out what about a third of them mean.

“Yeah, alright.” Mr Todd flaps a hand in Stephanie’s direction, not looking away from the towering pile of beef. Tim leans away from the oven glancing at the clock, and his pout at seeing the time makes Stephanie grin.

“Ack!” Stephanie’s footing goes from under her and she catches herself on her hands and knees. She’s clearly stepped on something loose on the floor, nearly breaking her neck on the large flagstones of the kitchen.

“Brown, what the hell?” Mr Todd says, walking over, looking worried. Or at least Stephanie hopes that’s what he looks like when he’s worried.

“I tripped!” Stephanie says, unnecessarily. She picks up the black object, thinking it’s a rolling pin. “Over this!”

“Holy hell, Brown put that down, right now!” Mr Todd says shocked. Stephanie looks to her hand and realises that is definitely not a rolling pin. 

“But...” Stephanie says reflexively, staring at what is clearly a black hard rubber tube with rounded ends, and a groove big enough for fingers on one end. Definitely not a rolling pin.

“What is that?” Tim asks, finally distracted from the cooking jam tarts in the oven, and his desire to eat at least one as soon as Mr Todd takes them out.

“Nothing!” Mr Todd yells, panicked, before forcing himself to act relaxed. “It’s nothing. Never you mind, Tiny Tim.”

“But what is it?” Tim says, getting off his stool, walking over to Stephanie to get a better look.

“OUT!” Mr Todd yells louder, clearly not wanting Tim to see it. He is a bit young for it, Stephanie thinks, despite the fact that Tim’s not more than three years younger than her.

“I can take it up to Mrs Wayne if you want, Mr Todd?” Stephanie says in a quiet voice, hoping to get it out of Tim’s sight quickly.

“Brown, shut up!” Mr Todd hisses, panic surfacing again. It’s that panic that makes him hiss out again. “It’s not Mrs Wayne’s.”

“But...” Stephanie blinks. If it isn’t Mrs Wayne’s then who’s could it be? Carrie couldn’t afford one, and Stephanie doesn’t have one, so...

“But what is it?” Tim tries again and Mr Todd steps in front of Stephanie blocking Tim’s view of the object in her hand.

“It’s a... Medical peculiar.” Mr Todd blurts out, and then winces. “OUT. Now. Go!”

“But...” Tim whines, glancing back at the over and then at Mr Todd with a pout.

“Oh, it’s for helping keep your spine straight in a corset.” Stephanie says, the lie coming to her easily. Tim probably won’t know about ladies underclothes, or at least Stephanie hopes not. “It’s medical, but a bit peculiar. That’s why it’s a ‘medical peculiar’, Tim.”

“Yes! That. It’s that.” Mr Todd seizes on Stephanie’s lie with the desperation of a drowning man being thrown a lifeline. He points at the door. “Now, seriously, out. Go find Mr Pennyworth.”

“Medical peculiar?” Stephanie says trying to hide her amusement and probably failing once Tim’s out the door.

“Yes. Medical peculiar.” Mr Todd says stubbornly, not meeting her eyes when he turns around to face her.

“If it’s not Mrs Wayne’s, whose is it?” Stephanie hefts it in her hand and Mr Todd winces again.

“I... This... This is Mr Grayson’s medical peculiar.” Mr Todd says, flustered and not taking his eyes off the hard rubber in her hand. “He uses it to calm his over-excitability. Don’t tell Tim! Mr Grayson’ll be embarrassed.” 

“Alright. I won’t tell Tim. I don’t think he wants to know what it’s really for anyway.” Stephanie grins, enjoying for once how unguarded Mr Todd is being.

“And put it in the damn sink, Brown. It needs washing.” Mr Todd turns away and back to his mountainous pile of beef, staring at it hopelessly. 

“Oh. Ahhhh!” Stephanie shrieks when she realises why it needs washing. It’s dirty from Mr Grayson using it!

“I told you not to pick it up.” Mr Todd says, grinning widely while she rushes over to the sink and drops it in, washing her hands quickly and letting the water cover the medical peculiar up. “No one to blame but yourself.”

“I... You did, Mr Todd. You did.” Stephanie moans miserably. She washes her hands with more soap and hopes that this time they’ll feel clean.  
“Uh huh.” Mr Todd snorts, relishing his turn at enjoying her embarrassment. Turn about being fair play and all that. “How did you know? What it was?”

“Oh. I... Uh. I’ve seen one before. With my Cassandra.” Stephanie admits, drying her hands on a dishtowel. Her hands might be clean but she’s not washing the medical peculiar. Not even for a bonus.

“Your Cassandra?” Mr Todd says, and he sounds unfamiliar with the name, which isn’t all that surprising. Stephanie doesn’t think she’s ever talked to him about the friends she left behind in the city, Cassandra included.

“Yes. If she were a man we’d be likely to marry eventually.” Stephanie says, heart in her throat. Mr Todd may well be the same type as Stephanie is, but that doesn’t mean he’ll take well to hearing it. “But she’s not, so, uh. We have a medical peculiar of our own.”

“Oh.” Mr Todd says blandly. And then a few seconds later when the penny drops. “OH.”

“Yes. That’s why I understand how it is with you and Mr Grayson.” Stephanie says, hiding her clenched fists in her skirts.

“What?” Mr Todd says, slowly. He’s gone still, hand beginning to grip the meat cleaver and Stephanie steels herself before continuing.

“That he’d be your wife if he was girl.” Stephanie says, hoping and praying that Mr Todd won’t take her saying it out loud the wrong way. She’s had violence done to her for implying it less than the way she’s saying it now. “Don’t worry. I can keep my mouth shut. I’m in the same boat as you. So it’s alright.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Brown.” Mr Todd is still utterly still, by the table. He’s barely even breathing for a few seconds. After a few long ticks of the clock, Mr Todd relaxes and says, very quietly. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Mr Todd.” Stephanie nods, and lets her fists unclench. She takes a breath and smoothes down her skirts before heading out to collect the laundry.

***

The rain is coming down heavily tonight. Stephanie wakes up in her bed, hearing a loud crash downstairs. She looks over to Carrie, but she’s in her bed, sleeping soundly through the rain. She hears another crash, and forces herself out of bed. She creeps out of their shared room and along the corridor to where the noise is coming from. 

Her nightdress swishes around her ankles as she slowly but quietly walks along the corridor towards the sounds of pots and pans clanking together in the kitchen? That can’t be right, Mr Todd went to bed early with a sore head, and Mr Grayson went to look after him. Surely no one would be up at this time of night? It’s well after midnight. Stephanie clutches at her braid, edging up to the closed kitchen door which is spilling light across the carpeted hall. With a shaking hand, she reaches out to the doorknob. She hasn’t actually considered what she’ll do if it’s robbers, but she can’t sit idly by while the kitchen and the rest of the house is raided. 

The doorknob turns and Stephanie takes a deep breath before stepping through. If it _is_ robbers, she’ll scream as loudly as she can, and if she’s lucky she might be able to take one of them out with a frying pan. It’s _not_ robbers, thankfully. It is however, a sheepish looking Mr Grayson, an annoyed Mr Todd, and a surprised Mr Wayne. Strangely, they all have wet hair, and their dry shirts are sticking to their shoulders as if they’d been pulled on over wet skin, just like they’d all just got dressed after bathing.

“Brown! What are you doing up?” Mr Grayson asks quickly, clearly trying to step in before anyone else can speak. He’s the closest to Stephanie, holding a pan in his hand while there are several pots by his feet, clearly the source of the noises.

“I heard noises. I thought there might be robbers... I knew you and Mr Todd were in your room. Except you’re not. Obviously. Mr Grayson.” Stephanie says, staring wide eyed at the three of them. Mr Todd’s over by the sink, scraping some sort of liquid from a pot and down the drain, while Mr Wayne is keeping warm by the oven.

“Ah, well. We... ah. Needed something in here.” Mr Grayson says, making Stephanie turn her attention to him, with yet another sheepish smile.

“So you got caught in the rain, Mr Grayson?” Stephanie says, tilting her head at watching drops of water drip from his long hair.

“Oh, is it raining?” Mr Wayne says, pulling on the most dim and rich manner Stephanie’s ever seen him use.

“Yes Sir.” Stephanie points to the rain lashing against the windows, and sees Mr Grayson cover his grimace with a hand to the face out of the corner of her eye. 

“Well. Ain’t no robbers here. Go to bed, girl.” Mr Todd grumbles, but instead of glaring at her, he’s giving her a look of warning. It’s the second time today that Mr Todd has helped her, after bringing up the third maid suggestion with Mr Pennyworth, so Stephanie doesn’t hesitate. “Away with you.”

“Yes, Mr Todd. “ Stephanie says, giving a little curtsey and hurrying back to bed, despite the odd scene she’d just witnessed. 

***

“Does she work for the gardeners?” Stephanie asks Carrie in a quiet voice, so as not to disturb Mr Pennyworth’s reading of the Gotham Gazette, or Mr Todd’s work. She’s washing up the last of the remaining lunch dishes, and so has a prime view out of the kitchen window to the pond beyond the lawns, despite the drizzling rain and slight sea fog.

“Who, pet?” Carrie tilts her head at her, taking the clean plate from Stephanie and wiping it with a dry towel.

“Her. Nora. Out by the pond.” Stephanie gestures with a scrubbing brush, water and soap bubbles dripping from it into the sink.

“There’s no one out by the pond, Stephie. Not in this weather.” Carrie gives her a worried look, wiping her hands on the towel as the parlour bell goes off. Carrie seems to have an innate sense of when a bell is going to ring requesting her presence, and she readjusts her headpiece before leaving to see to Mr and Mrs Wayne.

“Who the hell is Nora?” Mr Todd scoffs, from his place over at the other side of the table. He’s peeling apples for a pie for tonight’s supper and he wields the knife with a precision that Stephanie’s sure doesn’t come from cooking. “That’s _Anna_.”

“You’re both mistaken.”Mr Pennyworth interrupts, setting down his newspaper and taking a sip of his tea. “The young lady’s name is Wynn-Manon.”

“Pretty sure she said Anna to me. She was quite insistent.” Mr Todd emphasises the last words with a jab of his knife in the window’s direction. “Mind, she’s a ghost, so it don’t matter much.” 

“What do you mean she’s a ghost? She’s right there.” Stephanie says, glancing out of the window. Sure enough, Nora, Anna, Wynn-Manon or whatever her name is, is standing by the pond glaring balefully at the kitchen and its inhabitants.

“No, Mr Todd has the right of it.” Mr Pennyworth nods. Feeling reprimanded, Stephanie doesn’t respond and simply ducks her head. No sense risking her employment by back talking the butler. Mr Pennyworth wouldn’t fire her, but it’d be a stain on her record that she can’t risk now. “There are reports of her since the construction of the first building on these grounds. You probably shouldn’t be talking to her, Mr Todd.”

“She doesn’t seem to mind me too much.” Mr Todd shrugs. “Doesn’t like Tiny Tim overmuch, though. ...You said Wynn-Manon, right, Alfie, I mean, Mr Pennyworth?” 

“I did.” Mr Pennyworth says over the rim of his teacup. Stephanie can see the hint of a fond smile play on his lips from the angle she’s standing at. 

“Nora, Anna, Wynn-Manon... Wayne Manor.” Mr Todd says, slowly as if realising something. Stephanie’s frowns, wondering what Mr Todd could have worked out from ‘the Ghost of Wayne Manor’ having three names. “No, no, that’s right proper daft, that is.”

“It is rather.” Mr Pennyworth nods, setting his tea cup down equally slowly. Stephanie feels slightly annoyed with herself that both Mr Todd and Mr Pennyworth have some to the same realisation when she has no idea. Maybe she’s a former employee that left under terrible circumstances, and she’s never been told of her? At least that would make sense, especially if the poor girl had nowhere else to turn.

“S’true though, innit?” Mr Todd says with something that’s either horror or awe in his tone, looking over to Mr Pennyworth, eyes wide.

“It would appear to be, yes.” Mr Pennyworth’s eyebrows have risen up, and he looks almost lost in thought.

“What’s true?” Stephanie asks, not quite getting what they’re talking about now. Ghosts or something different aren’t something Stephanie’s familiar with, outside of penny dreadfuls and the odd story late on a winter night. If asked Stephanie would say Mystics and Psychics and the like were all bunk and no modern thinker would give them the time of day. Not that she’s being asked, of course. 

“Never you mind, missy. Haven’t you got a fireplace to clean?” Mr Todd says with a raised eyebrow. Stephanie bites her tongue and nods, gathering her things up and trudging out of the kitchen.

***

Letter from Miss Stephanie Brown:

_“My Dearest Darling Cassandra,  
Wayne Manor is looking for another maid! And of course I’ve put forward your name! Everyone seemed very happy to accept me as your reference, so I think it may be that you’re about to be employed here too! It’ll be wonderful to have you around, I can’t wait!_

_Mrs McGinnis, please don’t read this next part out while the children are around! There was a small incident with Mr Todd, that I should tell you about. It turns out that Mr Grayson uses rectal dilators to curb his sensibilities! For reasons I’m sure you can imagine. Mr Todd was all aflutter trying to keep it quiet, but that’s rather hard to do when one of your maids (me) trips over it when it’s on the kitchen floor instead of being washed in the sink. Poor Mr Todd, he had a terrible time trying to cover it up from Tim. I don’t suppose I helped too much, but I tried! But I think I managed to reassure him that he has a friend in me, so, we’ll see the results of that one day, I hope._

_Mrs McGinnis, you can read to the children again! That strange girl by the pond appeared again. But this time Mr Todd and Mr Pennyworth saw her. The odd thing is that we all thought she had a different name. Mr Todd and Mr Pennyworth came to some sort of agreement about her, her nature and appearances, but I’m sure I don’t know what. They seemed to be talking around the subject so very well that I couldn’t for the life of me follow!  
I’m so looking forward to seeing you again soon,_

_All my love,  
Your ever loving Stephanie._


	2. Arc 2: The Menace of Mr Jason Todd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Menace: actions, attitudes or ideas that are dangerous or threatening.

Having decided that apple pie is on the menu for tonight’s supper, Jason realises the pantry is devoid of apples, and that there can only be one culprit. And the best way to get revenge on Tim for eating the last of the apples is to ask an ‘innocent’ question to Stephanie about her Cassandra, to see Tim squirm. In the meantime though, he’s going to have to go down to the orchard and hope there’s enough mature apples to make enough pie to go around.

Jason stomps out of the kitchen, across the gravelled driveway, to the stairs that lead down to the gardens and the orchard beyond. He’s about two thirds of the way down when he steps onto an icy patch and loses his footing. He tumbles down, catching himself on one of the rounded handrail newels. The impact from his body crashing into it sends it tumbling over the railing and into the bushes below. Jason swears under his breath, ignoring his bleeding palms, aching ankle, and midsection to peer over the railing. With any luck he can return it to place, and Alfred will never know.

He gingerly goes down the last few steps and roots around in the bushes for the large stone ball. He eventually finds it right behind the magnolia bush, having rolled right under it. Jason really hadn’t planned on crawling on his hands and knees in the shrubbery today, and it’s an activity he doesn’t like one bit. The ball’s a pretty hefty weight once he picks it up, and carrying it makes his palms sting, and his ribs aren’t too happy either, but he gets it up the stairs and is just about to place it back in its spot, when he sees a glint of gold in the circle of stone dust and cement that held the ball in place. 

“Well, int that pretty!” An unnerving whisper on the wind murmurs, and Jason instinctively looks down to where Anna the Ghost is standing at the bottom of the stairs. He’s never seen her this close to the house before. Jason stares in confusion until he realises she means the glint of metal.

“I guess. Can’t really see it in the muck.” Jason shrugs, about to put the stone ball over it. He’s seen stranger things than random bits of metal where they aren’t expected to be lately.

“Be a shame to cover it up before ye’ve really looked, wouldn’t it, bairn?” Anna whispers again, soft and inviting. “Mebbe worth a pretty penny... Could gies it to yer sweetheart. I know ye’ve been wanting to gift him a pretty trinket for yer troth.”

“I... probably shouldn’t.” Jason says, trying to walk that fine line between being polite and not engaging the ghost. He doesn’t want to anger her, but he’s trying to take Mr Pennyworth’s advice of not encouraging her to talk to him.

“Ah, go on. One look won’t cause nae harm.” Anna says, moving up one step closer. Jason sets the ball down on the railing, just out of place and with a shaking hand, brushes his fingers over the glinting metal. The stone dust moves to reveal an oval pendant of gold, with a design of a seven pointed star surrounded by three rings of tiny little symbols that Jason doesn’t recognise on one side, and two overlapping v shapes cut in half by a line, surrounded by a ring with four symbols spaced out equally around it, on the other. It’s clearly high quality and expensive, exactly the sort of thing that Jason would have to save up for months if not _years_ to be able to afford, even with Mr Wayne’s generous pay.

“Oh...” Jason lifts it from where’s it’s been embedded between the hand rail and the stone ball, stroking the design to clear more dust from it.

“My! That’s a find, and nae mistake.” Anna whispers, and when Jason looks down at her, the way her eyes have lit up with excitement sends a shudder down his spine. 

“I can’t take it...” Jason says, feeling like the world has suddenly gone off kilter. “Or I should give it to Mr Wayne, it’s on his property, it belongs to him, rightfully.”

“Oh, _bairn_... That Mr Wayne cannae have a clue it exists. Whit he don’t know, willnae hurt him.” Anna says, taking another step up. “Go on, give it t’your sweetheart.”

“I...” Jason shakes his head, trying to clear it. He feels faintly sick. It has to be an effect of being so close to Anna, Jason doesn’t know what else it could be. 

“I willnae telt if ye dinnae!” Anna cackles quietly under her breath, and Jason resists the urge to roll his eyes. Stephanie can’t hear Anna all that clearly, and Mr Pennyworth makes a point of walking away if he gets too close to her. The only one dumb enough to actually talk to Anna is Jason. She’s not telling anyone anyway.

“Well, I guess it won’t hurt anyone if I take it.” Jason mutters, feeling the pressure ease as Anna takes a step down the steps with a smile as Jason slips the golden pendant into his waistcoat pocket.

“Ah, yer a right canny laddie, ye.” Anna beams at him and Jason summons up a sickly smile in her direction. He turns to the stone ball and puts in back in place. The feeling of the world being off kilter has faded and looking down the steps, Jason remembers the reason why he’s out there anyway.

“Fuck! The apples! Sorry, Anna, gotta run.” Jason blurts, running down the steps despite the way the impact makes his ankle protest, and goes right past Anna as fast as he can.

“Aye, ye dae that, ye molly.” Anna whispers viciously behind him. Jason doesn’t hear her though, as he’s on the path to the orchard and too far away to hear the hate and malice dripping from her voice. 

***

Jason descends into the cave (and yes, it _is_ a cave, Mr Wayne, you can call it a basement all you like, it’s still a cave. The walls are bare rock, and it’s lit by gas lamps that hang from hooks in the walls because the ceiling is too high to reach, it’s a _cave_...) by the steps leading down from the grandfather clock in Mr Wayne’s study, with a heavy tray of food and drink in his hands. 

He looks over to where Dick is limbering up by the training mats, shirtless. It’s as if Dick’s asking for Jason to go over there and sink his teeth into the now unmarked skin of his shoulders and neck, but Jason tamps down on the urge to put the tray on the small dining table instead.

Alfred is upstairs in the kitchen, keeping the ‘below stairs’ of the Manor running in Dick and Jason’s absence while they’re down here training. They don’t usually train or patrol on the same night, but today is a special occurrence, as they’re all training with Cassandra for the first time. Jason has mixed feelings about her joining them in the mission. Not through any doubt of her capabilities or thinking that because she’s a girl she can’t help; he’s seen Mrs Wayne take down enough men with her whip to know that ladies can be more fearsome than men; but because Mr Wayne insists on keeping the mission and Cassandra’s joining them a secret from Stephanie. 

Jason thinks Stephanie’s proven herself trustworthy enough to be brought into the know by now, and feels slightly insulted on her behalf that Cassandra’s been there barely two weeks, and has been told everything. It rankles that Mr Wayne’s valuing of fighting ability outweighs faithfulness and loyalty. Jason wants to speak up, but one quelling look from Alfred when Mr Wayne made the announcement to them and so Jason’s been holding his tongue.

Cassandra, in Jason’s opinion is a smart, hard working type. She might not say much due to English not being her first language, but that’s almost a plus to be honest. It’s clear from the way she looks and observes the world and people around her that she understands far more than anyone would think from someone who says so little. From the little he’s seen of her and Stephanie together she’s far chattier with her, quite understandably. The one time Jason had seen Cassandra and Alfred talking together, they’d been speaking another language, Cantonese, Alfred had told him later, and Cassandra clearly had no issue speaking that at length. 

Jason’s still unclear on how or why Mr Wayne decided that Cassandra was one of them, so tonight will be interesting to say the least. Mr Wayne notices Jason, and waves him over. Jason ambles over, coming to stand next to Dick, slowly moving his arm behind him to rest on the small of Dick’s bare back. He lets his thumb sweep idly over Dick’s skin, purely to watch the way Dick fights a shudder, throwing him a look that’s an equal amount of longing and annoyance. Mr Wayne clears his throat and Jason and Dick turn their attentions to him.

“As you’ve both told me a few times, another pair of hands out there would be a great help in our fight. Cain here has experience of fighting, and will be joining us for training until I gauge that she’s ready to join us on patrol.” Mr Wayne tells them both, hands clasped in front of him to indicate his seriousness.

“Yes Sir.” Dick says cheerfully. Jason knows from a few quiet conversations over the last few days that Dick thinks bringing Cassandra in is a wonderful idea, and has no problem with keeping Stephanie in the dark. 

“What kind of experience?” Jason says, doing his best to keep his face blank and any sort of ‘tone’ out of his voice. Belatedly he remembers to add, “Sir.”

“Cain here has been seen visiting the docks on many a night, as well as the dockside bars, making sure that any reprobates leave the women alone.” Mr Wayne says, eyeing Jason for the lapse in decorum. Jason shifts, and nods slightly in apology.

“I see.” Jason doesn’t really, but he knows better than to say that now. “Sir.”

“Perhaps you’d like a demonstration, Todd?” Mr Wayne says, and that’s definite amusement in his eyes. Jason has the feeling that he’s going to be paying for that second slip on the mats later.

“Why not.” Jason shrugs, grinning at Mr Wayne. He might as well make his punishment worth something by continuing. “Sir.”

“Cain, shall we?” Mr Wayne says with a small wave of his hand, indicating that Cassandra should come at him. 

She barely comes up to Mr Wayne’s chest, and she’s a slight girl, but she moves faster than Dick does, darting in and out of Mr Wayne’s reach with ease. She jabs at him, landing hit after hit on him, flipping backwards to avoid a heavy punch Mr Wayne aims at her midsection. She switches to kicks, still eerily silent as she catches Mr Wayne in his stomach, and then again at his chin.

Mr Wayne finally manages to get a grip on her upper arm at that, but before he can even smile in victory, Cassandra’s swung herself around his arm, twisting until it’s over her shoulder. She pulls down in front of her, and Mr Wayne staggers back. With another sidestepping movement, Cassandra’s flipping Mr Wayne over her hip and he lands on his back with a loud whoomph sound. She twists, still keeping a grip on Mr Wayne’s arm and places a foot on his chest, pinning him down from those two points of contact alone.

Cassandra’s clearly won the fight, and the whole thing took at most, half a minute. She’s impressive, and Jason understands why Mr Wayne’s been so insistent. Dick whoops loudly and Jason grins in welcome at Cassandra. 

***

Jason closes the bedroom door behind him, grabbing the one chair their shared room has, and shoving it under the door handle. Dick barely has enough time to turn to look at what he’s doing before Jason’s tackled him down onto his bed. 

“Oh my, Mr Todd! Feeling frisky are we?” Dick smiles up at him, spreading his legs wider around Jason’s hips. “Are you about to have your wicked way?”

“You’re a damn tease, Dickie.” Jason mutters, pressing a kiss to Dick’s neck. “Going shirtless like that.”

“Perhaps I’ve been neglected and wanted some attention...” Dick says between huffs of breath. “Or maybe I’m just a very naughty boy.” 

“ _You’re a saucy tease_. I suppose I’ll have to take what I want, and maybe you’ll be satisfied.” Jason rocks their clothed hips together, distracting Dick long enough to pin both of Dick’s wrists above his head on the pillow.

“Promises, promises.” Dick says cheekily, staring up at Jason. He wriggles underneath Jason lifting his hips into every rock. 

“Be a good boy for me, Dickie. Be my good boy.” Jason says to see Dick shudder at the words. Dick catches his lower lip between his teeth and coyly looks up at Jason.

“Make me...” Dick says, pushing up into Jason’s hold and wrapping his legs around Jason’s waist.

“Make you? I can feel how ready you are.” Jason snorts, Dick’s hard underneath him. Not that Jason’s not hard too. “Maybe I should keep you pinned down, and make you come like this?”

“No... Jay...” Dick whines, eyes widening at the idea. He looks almost panicked and Jason has to bite back a mean smile.

“You want more than that? You’ll have to be good then.” Jason pushes up from his elbows and looms over Dick.

“Yes, Jay.” Dick says; the very picture of submission. Jason pushes up onto his knees and undoes his waistcoat, dropping it to the floor and reaching up and back to pull his shirt over his head. He undoes his pants and pushes them down his thighs before turning to Dick’s clothes. Dick lifts up to slip out of his shirt, and lies there patiently while Jason undoes his pants and pulls them off his legs, leaving him completely naked. 

“You want me inside you?” Jason asks, knowing the answer is yes. He can see the telltale black circle of Dick’s medical peculiar covering his hole. The thought that Dick’s been wearing that for the last couple of hours while down in the cave careens through Jason’s brain, and he wants nothing more than to be buried inside Dick right now. “Do you think you could come from that? Me fucking you and nothing else?”

“Jay!” Dick pleads as Jason pulls out the dilator, and lets it drop to the floor. He lines his cock up and pushes inside Dick in one long sweet thrust that takes both of their breath away. His hands go back to pinning Dick’s wrists down and he rests his weight on his elbows. It leaves his mouth in biting range of Dick’s shoulder, and he noses Dick’s long hair out of the way to press little kisses along his neck and jaw.

“That sounded like a yes, Dickie.” Jason grins, nipping gently at Dick’s shoulder, pulling out and pushing in so easily it feels like home. 

“Yes. Please. I’ll be good. I’ll be your good boy. Please!” Dick babbles, his legs moving to wrap tightly around Jason’s back, his ankles crossing under Jason ass to encourage him to fuck in harder. Dick’s cock bumps gently against Jason’s stomach.

“Well, since you asked so nicely...” Jason laughs, giving Dick the rough hard fuck he’s after. He nips at the same spot on his shoulder before biting in hard. Dick moans, body tensing and Jason does it again, feeling the skin break under his teeth this time.

“Oh, yes, just like that! Jay!” Dick cries out, pushing his shoulder into Jason’s open mouth. His ankles pull Jason in deeper.

“I know, love, I know.” Jason groans, his grip on Dick’s wrists tightens the harder he fucks into him. “Always so good for me. So slick and open...”

“Oh bite me! Bite me harder!” Dick pleads, knowing how Jason loves to hear him say it. It puts a possessive thrill through him to mark Dick up where people could see if Dick were less careful. Dick’s _his_.

“Yes. Good boy, yes!” Jason takes the time to praise Dick before moving to his other shoulder and decorating that too with bite marks of various depths. “Say my name like a _prayer_!”

“Jay!” Dick breathes out reverently, and Jason’s never felt so worshipped. 

“Dickie...” Jason presses a kiss, followed by a light bite, to his neck.

“Jay!” Dick sobs, and from the tone of his voice and the tension in his body Jason knows that Dick’s about to come. He glances down and is treated to the view of Dick’s cock leaking against his stomach copiously, and his balls drawn up tight to his body ready to spill.

“That’s right, Dickie. Come for me, just like that.” Jason snarls as he pounds in harder. Dick’s body seizes and spasms, and his cock spurts, emptying his balls between them. The tight clench of Dick’s hole is amazing and Jason slams in again and again until he can’t hold back anymore and he comes deep inside Dick.

After a few blissful moments of just being, Dick pulls at his grip on his wrists and Jason lets go, rolling off Dick and up against the bedroom wall. Dick rubs at his wrists with a truly pleased smile on his face. Jason passes him a cloth wetted in the small bowl of water on Dick’s nightstand to clean up with.

“Oh, I got this for you.” Jason picks up his waistcoat and fishes out the pendant he’d found earlier with the Ghost, while Dick deals with the mess dripping out between his thighs. Jason would clean him up, but Dick prefers to do it himself.

“Jay, this is... It’s beautiful!”Dick says in wonder when Jason presses it into his hand. “And too much, I can’t...”

“Yes, you can. Here.” Jason takes the thin leather strip he’d found earlier and threaded through the pendant, to tie it around Dick’s neck.

“Jay.” Dick breathes, stroking it gently with his fingertips. “I love it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, my love.” Jason smiles, reaching out to brush back a lock of Dick’s hair and tuck it behind his ear. Dick settles back into the bed, pulling Jason in close.

“If I bleed onto the pillow then you’re the one explaining it.” Dick yawns sleepily, tucking his head on Jason’s shoulder.

“Bleed into your hair instead then.” Jason snorts softly, wrapping his arms around the parts of Dick he can reach.

“Jay! It’d take hours to clean that up.” Dick protests, too close to sleep to realise that Jason’s joking.

“Ugh, go to sleep, Dickie.” Jason yawns widely, feeling his jaw crack as sleep creep up on him too. “Be a good boy.”

“Mmmph.” Dick mumbles, body going lax in Jason’s arms. Jason blinks once or twice and then slips into slumber too.

***

Jason shifts in his position by the gargoyle, trying to ease the ache in his legs after staying in one position too long. Batman’s sent him to observe a supposedly empty building that they believe Professor Pyg is using, but Jason’s been here for over an hour and he’s not seen any movement. He huddles in against the gargoyle, pulling his dark green Ulster coat tighter around him and wishing he had a hat to keep his head warm. The black half mask covering the upper part of his face does nothing to keep the chill away, even though he likes the effect of the black mask disappearing into his black hair, blending it in together in the gloom of the Gotham night. 

Their Robin uniform is mostly the same as Batman’s, but in dark red for the double breasted canvas jacket, black trousers, and gloves and boots that matching his Ulster coat, rather than Bruce’s black and grey. The only other change is that the Bat design is replaced with the only flash of bright colour on the whole suit, a yellow R on their left breast. 

Not for the first time, Jason’s relieved that his hair’s grown out from the mess it had been left in after being bleached from black to ginger to remove the lice. The discomfort and smell of having his head coated in bleach had been better than having his head shaved in the dead of winter, or letting the head lice stay. Now that Jason’s living in much better conditions with sheets that are washed regularly, he doesn’t have to worry about ever going through that again. 

As much as Jason loves being Robin, he wishes Dick were out with him tonight instead of having his night in with Tim and the rest of the staff. While it’s fun trading off on patrol every other night, being stuck on an observation with no one to talk to is mind numbing, and Jason wants to talk to his sweetheart about nothing in particular until they either get the signal to leave, or to fly into action. 

When he and Dick agreed to share Robin all those years ago, Jason hadn’t thought for a moment that Dick might ever return his feelings. The shock and wonder of Dick kissing him after seeing him in uniform for the first time after Jason had fully healed is a brief thrill he always feels whenever he pulls on his Robin uniform, even after a couple of years of being committed to one another. 

Jason’s brought out of his reverie when a single light flicks on in the building he’s watching. He leans forward slowly, trying to make out figures through the gloom and the dirty windows. Two more lights appear, and Jason waits until they move over to where he knows the stairs are, before he moves in. He sends up a grappling line and swings over to the building as quietly as he can. He finds an open window, and slowly lifts it up to swing a leg over the sill and makes his way inside. The building really is empty on this floor, old abandoned papers are littered around the place, but there’s no furniture or even old sheets lying around. It’s too empty. There’s no signs of anyone squatting in here, and with so many people unable to pay rent and being evicted, the fact that there’s no signs of life here is incredibly suspicious for a building with little to no visible security, not even locks on the doors or bars on the windows.

He hears footsteps coming up the stairs, and then another pair, and then more after that. Jason ducks behind an alcove and holds as still as he dares while the footsteps come closer. He hears the snuffling, snorting, squealing, breathing noises and Jason knows that it has to be Professor Pyg. And judging from the amount of people around him, Mr Toad, and some of his dollotrons too.

“We-eee-eell, Mr Toad. I find this quite satisfactory, don’t you?” Professor Pyg’s squeal is unmistakable, and Jason holds his breath. If he wasn’t alone, and the Professor was, he’d consider trying to take him out. But he is, and attempting to fight through the dollotrons is suicide, plain and simple. Dick would never forgive him. 

“Indeed Professor! Quite satisfactory.” Mr Toad’s sycophantic tones and ingratiating words make Jason’s skin crawl, but he holds still.

“A perfect place to perfect my bea-uuuti-full dolls, don’t you think?” the Professor trills, and Jason can imagine him doing some stupid waltz to his words. He really hates the pig masked man, especially after seeing the mess he’d made of his ‘failures’, let alone the poor souls he calls his ‘successes’.

“I do, Professor!” Mr Toad says happily, and to Jason’s immense relief they start walking away. Jason waits until they’ve shuffled through to the next room, and he dives for the window he came in through. He grabs the line and swings out to the gargoyle he’d been sitting next to earlier. At least he can tell Batman that they’ve found one of the Professor’s bases. It’s more than they’d had last night; it’s still some progress, no matter how slow.

***

Jason’s giving the dough for tonight’s bread a good kneading when he spots Tim in his daily attempt to steal food. It was amusing back when he first started, almost cute, but it’s been going on months now, and while Dick manages to still find some amusement, the novelty has long worn off for Jason. He looks around for Carrie, planning to get her to throw Tim out before remembering she’s been given the whole week off to visit her sick mother in the City. Jason sighs heavily. Carrie’s always reliable at running Tim out of the kitchen.

“Brown.” Jason says, with no other choice to turn to right now.

“Yes, Mr Todd?” Stephanie looks up from her spot drying the last of the dishes and turns to him, smoothing down her perfectly white for once apron against the deep black of her dress skirts. Her blonde hair’s falling out of the bun already, but Jason’s learnt that Stephanie’s only capable of having one or other parts of her uniform perfect, and never both of them at the same time, no matter how hard she tries.

“Go smack Tiny Tim with a broom, and take back the pastries he’s trying to steal.” Jason tells her, looking her right in the eyes, so she knows he’s serious. “Feel free to use violence if you need to. Actually use violence anyway.”

“Yes, Mr Todd.” She says with an impish grin. She finds Tim amusing, Jason knows, but she’s also not swayed by his little face like Dick is. Stephanie marches into the pantry to where Tim is not at all sneakily trying to steal tonight’s dessert pastries for himself.

“But Steph! I’m hungry!” Tim whines as she drags him out of the pantry by his shirt collar.

“You can use those puppy dog eyes on someone else, Tim. I’m under strict orders from Mr Todd here, and frankly he’s scarier than you are. Also, _he_ feeds me, which is possibly more important.” Stephanie says, taking a pastry from his hand, setting it on the kitchen table as she walks them both by.

“But Steph...” Tim tries to dig his heels into the stones of the kitchen floor but Stephanie drags him over them with barely any effort. She’s got strong arms that girl, Jason thinks.

“No. Out you go. Tell Duke there’s a...” Stephanie says as they reach the door to the gravel courtyard outside, and looks over to Jason, pausing in her message for Jason’s confirmation.

“Apple.” Jason says, and then thinks better of it. “Tart. Apple tart.”

“Apple tart in it for him, if he keeps you out of the kitchen.” Stephanie has a big smile on her face, and she’s clearly enjoying lording it over Tim. Jason approves.

“Noooo.” Tim whines again, trying to catch onto the doorframe as Stephanie bustles him outside.

“You’re right. I _should_ tell him myself.” Stephanie hooks her arm around Tim’s neck, and walks him over to the stables.

“Noooooo.” Tim’s defeated whine carries in the air as he’s dragged away, and Jason snorts.

“Finally some peace.” Jason mutters to himself, punching into the dough. He loses himself to the rhythm of rolling, kneading and stretching for a while until he hears a clinking sound by the window. He thinks it’s a bird until he looks up and sees Anna.

She waves at him, and a chill rolls down his spine. He’s never seen her this close to the house. She’s smiling, but there’s no way that smile could even be called anything but menacing. Jason’s one of the least religious people he knows, but the sight of her there makes him want to cross himself and start praying.

Anna raps on the window, her malicious smile widening with each tap. 

Jason’s suddenly extremely glad he sent Stephanie to the stables. He can only hope that she’ll stay there until the ghost goes.

“D’ya ken why ye can see me, speak tae me, but the other’s cannae? Should I let ye in on the secret, bairn?” Anna says, tapping on the window, matching the beat of her lilting accent.

Jason stills, staring at her pale face, there’s something subtly off with it, as if there’s something moving under her skin, and yet there’s nothing there at all.

“Ah go on, then. I’ll telt ye.” Anna cackles and Jason can’t even breathe, frozen in place. “It’s nae coincidence. It’s ‘cause, ye, the old git and the lassie all been dead. Mebbe just for a moment, but yer all one foot in the grave now.”

Jason stares at her, not seeing her now, but feeling the echoing space of the warehouse in the docks, and how it felt to bleed out alone on the floor, feeling the chill and knowing no one would arrive in time. The deep nothing that followed and then the aching, aching of his ribs as Dick punched him back to life, and the utter agony of inhaling once more. It had taken weeks of being laid up in bed before he’d managed to even stumble across the floor of their room, and into Dick’s arms for that very first kiss.

“Jason! Jason!” Selina says, gripping him by the shoulder, and Jason looks down to her arm, encased in one of her usual dark purple daywear shirtwaists; before staring up at her wonderfully alive face with pouty red lips, dark hair coiffed perfectly on her head and worried green eyes, when he realises he’s in the kitchen, safe. “Are you back with us?” Selina gives him a smirk, trying to act amused, but the concern ruins the attempts.

“I... Yes. Sorry, Ma’am.” Jason says, shaking himself. He looks over to the window, but Anna is gone. Something in his chest loosens and Jason takes a deep breath. “How can I help you?”

“Hmm. How about a cup of tea first, and then we can have a nice chat.” Selina says, hand gentling on his shoulder. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

***

Jason wipes his mouth on his napkin, and sits back in his chair at the kitchen table. There’s a feeling of satisfaction at seeing everyone with either a cleared plate or getting there. Jason himself feels full and glad that his work for the day is over. Mr and Mrs Wayne are staying overnight in the city, so breakfast tomorrow will be simple toast and eggs for the staff, apart from poor Duke, who’ll be stuck sleeping in the Waynes’ carriage while they’re in the city, which means that Jason gets the night off. And not just from cooking, from patrol too.

Dick’s sending him coy looks under his lashes between each bite and Jason gets the feeling that Dick’s using one of his medical peculiars right now; and that term has stuck since Jason told Dick about the incident with Stephanie; and that means tonight once they’re in bed, Dick’ll let Jason have his way. Jason can’t wait. Alfred finishes his last bite with a happy sigh and a clink of his cutlery onto the plate. Dishes and cutlery are taken over to the sink and Stephanie and Cassandra start working through the pile while the rest of them disappear off to the library.

Jason picks up the copy of Dumas’ Le Meneur de loups that he’s been slowly making his way through. Jason’s French isn’t as good as his English, but he likes Dumas enough to keep going. A chapter later, and Stephanie and Cassandra join them in the library. Stephanie picks up the Jungle book and Cassandra settles in next to her. 

Cassandra seems uncomfortable, shifting more than Jason would have expected her too. She’s not reading anything which probably adds to her restlessness, but as far as Jason’s aware she can’t. Jason remembers when he used to tease Dick about claiming he could read; and when he looks over at Dick, Dick is smirking right back at him over The Adventures On Wings of Night: Flamebird and Nightwing, obviously sharing that memory. Jason smiles and raises an eyebrow at him.

“Hey Dickie. Why don’t you read out loud for us all? I’m sure Cain’d like that.” Jason says, nodding his head over to where the two girls are sitting.

“Oh, I don’t know...” Dick says, trying not to look to eager, but Jason can tell he loves the idea. Dick does love performing, a love he’s picked up from being with Mrs Wayne.

“Oh that’d be fun, Mr Grayson.” Stephanie says, nodding. “Cass, why don’t you pick a story you’d like?”

“Simple one?” Cassandra says slowly, wrapping her mouth around the unfamiliar words awkwardly.

“Anything you’d like, my dear.” Alfred says, a little slower than he usually does, for Cassandra’s benefit.

“Dick could do all the voices. He’s good at that.” Tim says, putting down his book and leaning forward, his eyes shining earnestly.

“Voices?” Cassandra says, inclining her head to the right slightly. 

“Why, my dear! You _shall_ go to the ball!” Dick says in his best fairy godmother voice, before continuing in a higher pitch as Cinderella. “Oh, but I don’t have a thing to wear! I can’t go in rags, Godmother...” 

“Oh!” Cassandra says wide eyed. She seems to be more watching how Dick changes his body language than the voices, but either way, she’s intrigued.

“So, shall I read something?” Dick asks with a grin, with an arm flourish in Cassandra’s direction. 

“Yes.” Cassandra nods, staring at Dick. “Please. That one.”

“Cinderella? Why not?” Dick smiles looking over the shelves for the book he wants. “Tim, you should be the mice.”

“What! Why me?” Tim says confused, and a little indignant. 

“Because no one else is small enough, Tiny Tim.” Jason smirks and Stephanie snorts, and then immediately pretends she didn’t.

“Ugh.” Tim throws himself back in his chair in disgust, making everyone smile at his antics, even Cassandra.

“I think that’s an excellent suggestion, Dick.” Alfred says, clapping his hands together. It’s a foregone conclusion now that Dick will. “Tim, I know you’ll do the very best mouse impression.”

“Yes!” Stephanie cries out, looking excited and ready to be entertained. Jason sets his book down, and fetches the book of fairy tales from the shelf, flicking to the right page and handing it to Dick who’s readied himself by finding a blanket hanging over the back of one of the couches and tying it around his waist like a skirt. 

“Oh, Jason, you’ll be Prince Charming won’t you?” Dick bats his lashes at Jason in a deeply over exaggerated way. 

“Just this once, Dickie, I suppose I can sweep you off your feet.” Jason’s gaze flicks around the room, and when he doesn’t see any hint of disgust on anyone’s faces he relaxes.

“Oh Cass, we’re in for a treat!” Stephanie says, turning to her friend. Cassandra smiles and nods, quick eyes taking in every last one of Dick’s movements as he begins reading out the prologue.

By the time Dick’s got to the Ball scene, acting out each of the characters, Cassandra’s on her feet, pulling Stephanie into a dance alongside Dick. Jason’s lounging in his chair when Dick stops dead in front of him, pretending to see him for the first time, and miming fanning himself while sending Jason hopeful looks. By the time Cassandra and Stephanie are laughing at his attempts at catching Jason’s attention, Jason stands up and offers his hand to Dick. He pulls him into a twirl, one hand firm at the small of Dick’s back, and starts a waltz, grateful to Mrs Wayne for teaching him to dance. 

***

Jason manages to pull off his boots and socks, and sits down heavily on his bed, wincing. He presses his hand to his side and the thick scar tissue running down his side, hiding under his shirt. It doesn’t actually hurt, he reminds himself. The pain is all in his mind, as both Alfred and Mr Wayne have told him. But knowing that doesn’t stop his side from aching, though. He sighs, torn between rubbing at his side and keeping the pressure up by holding his hand still. Dick waltzes in the door to their room, and Jason doesn’t have enough time to straighten up and pull his hand away before Dick catches him. The look of worry on Dick’s face is worse than his side.

“It’s hurting again?” Dick says with concern. Jason had told him it had stopped hurting a year ago, and to this point had managed to hide any spasms that have happened from Dick. The lie has caught up with now, it seems.

“Not much... I twisted wrong, I think.” Jason says, trying to get that look off Dick’s face. The guilt eats Dick up too much for something that wasn’t his fault in any way. “It’ll ease off in a bit. No need to worry, Dickie.”

“Don’t be silly. Of course I worry.” Dick takes off his jacket, tie, and waistcoat and drops them on his bed, coming over to sit next to Jason. He puts his hands either side of Jason’s slowly massaging the skin around the long thick scar. “That helping?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Jason relaxes into the warmth of Dick’s hands, feeling the chill and ache recede. It’s all in his head, but Dick always makes it better.

“I can’t believe it’s been almost four years already...” Dick murmurs, pressing quick kiss to Jason’s cheek. Nearly four years after the attack; nearly four years of the two of them conducting a clandestine relationship under everyone’s noses. Not that it’s clandestine anymore. Stephanie knows, so Cassandra probably knows. Alfred definitely knows. The Ghost knows too, but she doesn’t really count.

“In a few months.” Jason nods, trying hard not to think back to that night with the Clown. Jason had tracked the Mad Clown to a dockside warehouse after a series of orphanages had been set fire to, leaving no survivors. He hadn’t meant to go up against him alone, but he’d been discovered at his observation perch by hired thugs and dragged before the Clown, who’d had his gang beat him bloody; and how he had a gang, Jason still doesn’t know; then the laughing monster had carved Jason open down the side _(“I’ve always wanted to carve a bird!”)_ and left him for dead. 

That was until Mr Wayne and Dick had found him, and brought him back after Jason knows his heart had stopped beating. Everyone had regarded it as a miracle, but sometimes Jason wonders if he was cursed instead. If he’s corrupting Dick with his desires and love. It’s been playing at his mind since the Ghost mentioned that’s how he can see her. He doesn’t dare ask Stephanie or Alfred about their experiences; it seems far too personal. 

“I almost lost you.” Dick whispers, leaning his forehead on Jason’s shoulder, he still sounds so upset about it, Jason wants to wrap him up in his arms and never let him leave this bed again.

“Like I’d let death stop me from being with you, my love.” Jason leans his weight into Dick, trying to offer as much comfort as he can with his side still feeling like it’s on fire.

“Jay...” Dick stifles a sob against Jason’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around Jason’s waist. Jason leans back until Dick’s head thumps down on his pillow, and Jason bites down the noise that wants to escape as he turns over to face him.

“I mean it.” Jason says reverently. It honestly feels like he clawed his way back to life because he could hear Dick screaming his name, and the dull thud of his fists against his chest. “The last thing I thought of in that warehouse was that I’d never see you smile again.”

“You were so brave. Then and afterwards.” Dick says, lifting his head up to brush a kiss to Jason’s mouth, unshed tears glittering in his eyes. “It’s why I couldn’t stop myself kissing you that day.”

“And you were so surprised when I kissed you back.” Jason says with fond remembrance, running his fingers through Dick’s hair and tugging the ribbon out to let all that long inky dark hair loose around them. 

Jason had staggered out of bed one morning after coming back from death, in nothing but his nightshirt, cane in hand, feeling the need to look at the sunrise that a fully dressed Dick was sighing over from the window. It had been the first time in weeks that he’d walked without someone else helping him, and the sense of accomplishment had been overwhelming. Dick had wrapped an arm around Jason’s shoulders that were for once not shaking with the effort of moving; and Jason had looked over at him, watching the golds and pinks of the rising sun play across Dick’s face. 

He’d looked ethereal, and so beautiful it almost hurt to look at him, and Jason had known that his feelings were love at that moment. And then Dick had leant in and their lips had met; and Jason stopped caring if wanting Dick had been right or wrong, all he knew after that was that he was Dick’s, and Dick was Jason’s. 

By the time they’d parted, one of Jason’s hands had been twined in Dick's short shaggy hair, and the moan when he’d tugged on it gently had woken something hungry and demanding in Jason. They hadn’t fallen into bed right then, but it hadn’t taken too long after that at all. Dick had opened his heart to him at the same time as his legs, and Jason refuses to leave until he dies again. It’s where he’s meant to be. He doesn’t need to be old and wise to know _exactly_ where he belongs.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy, Jay.” Dick whispers, shifting forward to press another gentle kiss to Jason’s mouth. Their foreheads rest against each other’s, and this close Jason can see all the shades of blue in Dick’s eyes. He wants to lose himself in those eyes for the rest of eternity. 

“Don’t worry, Dickie. We’ll always be this happy. I promise.” Jason says fervently, meaning it heart and soul. 

***

It’s a rare night when Batman lets both Robins out to patrol together without him there. It always feels special to Jason, even if they’re doing nothing more than observing someone’s movements, rather than intervening on the street. He’s got that same rush he had the first night he ever wore the Robin uniform, but it’s tempered with the knowledge that the uniform is not the protection he had once believed it was. 

It’s not much protection from the cold and rain either, despite being two layers of thick woollen fabric. Jason and Dick are currently huddled under an overhang, hiding from the worst of the weather. Their Ulster coats are dragging heavily on the platform with the water soaked into them, and Jason can feel droplets of water rolling down his spine from his waterlogged hair. A quick look at Dick confirms that he’s in much the same state of ‘drowned rat’ that Jason’s in. Even the streets are mostly empty; apart from a few drunken stragglers, and those poor unfortunates who couldn’t find somewhere inside away from the wet, so they’re waiting the rain out before heading back to the manor.

“Come work for Batman, they said. You’ll always be warm, dry, and well fed, they said. And here I am, with a full belly, and dry as a bone.” Jason says so dryly it sounds like he’s really complaining, and Dick looks over at him balefully until Jason cracks a smile, snorting.

“Honestly! You had me going there.” Dick grumbles, shoving at Jason good naturedly, almost tipping him over. 

“I had to break the mood somehow. You were turning into the Bat there.” Jason shrugs, righting himself. “I know it’s nasty out here, but that doesn’t usually stop you chatting on.” 

“I’ve got a lot to think about.” Dick sighs, staring out at the dark, wet and empty street, giving his best ‘consumptive waif pining for her lover’ look.

“Like what?” Jason says, Dick may have a lot of responsibilities in the household, but apart from their work for the mission, there isn’t really much for him to worry about. 

“Things...” Dick waves a hand, dislodging a sheet of water that had been collecting in his coat’s cape.

“So have I. So many recipes to try, not enough time to try them all.” Jason huffs, mind already flicking to what he can make over the coming week. This sort of weather calls for something warm and filling. Maybe that Jam Roly-Poly Alfred was telling him about? Because it sounds so good right now, warm raspberry jam, suet pastry, and custard... “And of course, the ever popular question I like to debate with myself, are you using a medical peculiar right now or not?”

“ _Robin_!” Dick chokes out, positively scandalised. The surprise has his mask rising with his eyebrows.

“It’s a nice warm thought on a night like tonight.” Jason shrugs, grinning widely. If his heart rate has raised thinking about it right now, well, no one has to know.

“I... You... _Stop that_!” Dick gasps through what could be laughter or indignation.

“Make me.” Jason bares his teeth in challenge and Dick’s gaze flicks from his down to his mouth. Usually that’s a prelude to a kiss, but they’re on the street and they’re both rather strict about keeping kissing and more to their bedroom in the manor.

“If you don’t behave...” Dick trails off and Jason waits patiently for Dick to pick a threat. “Aha! _I won’t let you bite me_.” Dick sits back with a satisfied smirk on his face.

“Now that’s just cruel and uncalled for, _Robin_.” Jason says, honestly shocked that Dick would even suggest such a thing. “And I’m not entirely sure you could stop me if I tried.”

“You might be able to overpower me, but I can slip away.” Dick says, sitting up and squaring his shoulders. “We’ve proved that on the wrestling mats, time after time, remember?”

“I mean, I don’t think you’d even try, Dickie.” Jason says, licking his lips and letting his gaze follow a bead of rainwater slip down Dick’s jaw. 

“No names on the streets, remember Jason?” Dick snorts, looking away coyly. “I probably wouldn’t, it’s true.”

“Sometimes I think you like it more than I do.” Jason says, leaning in to reach an arm out around Dick when he’s distracted by the distinctive sound of a horseless carriage roaring along the street. “Isn’t Batman at home tonight?”

“Yes.” Dick says, and the urgency in his voice shakes Jason out of his frisky mood and into a more business like one. “That has to Professor Pyg.”

“He’s right the other side of town from the hideout I found last week.” Jason says, risking sticking his head out from the overhang to try and spot the horseless carriage through the downpour.

“We’ll never be able to follow him in this!” Dick says, and the frustration he feels is obvious in the clench of his jaw, and the stiffness of his body. 

“Maybe not, but at least we can find out what direction he’s headed in.” Jason says, hoping to soothe Dick’s frustration a little. “It’s too late at night for him to be doing anything but going back to where he sleeps.”

“I can see it, his carriage!” Dick says, reaching out to grip and Jason’s coat and pull him in the direction the carriage is coming from. It’s heading down the street, waving from side to side alarmingly. At least it’s night, and there’s no one on the street to be driven over like there would be in daytime. 

“How the hell do they not crash, driving like that?” Jason says, watching with the kind of fascination he usually reserves for Batman serving out a beat down to a rapist or wife beater.

“The devil’s own luck?” Dick suggests, shaking his head at the reckless driving of Mr Toad. The man should be behind bars, not the steering wheel of a horseless carriage. It’s honestly terrifying.

“If only they would. They could go up in flames, solve our problem for us.” Jason says, as Mr Toad swerves away from a wall at the last second.

“Jason...” Dick sighs reprovingly.

“Don’t pretend you don’t agree, Dickie.” Jason looks over to him, and sees the stubborn set to his jaw.

“I...” Dick sighs heavily, and the rain runs down his mask in thick rivulets. “I _do_ agree. But I don’t like wishing death on anyone.”

“Fair enough.” Jason says, letting the subject drop. Dick has his reasons for not wanting people to die, and Jason’s not going to push it.

“Well, they’re definitely heading south.” Dick pushes his wet hair back from his face as he watches the carriage disappear from sight.

“And the hideout I found was in the north.” Jason wipes at his own soaked hair and wishes for a hat again.

“Seems like Batman’s theory that they have boltholes all over the city is right.” Dick ducks back under the overhang.

“ _Fuck_...” Jason snarls as he realises what that could mean.

“Jason! Language!” Dick scolds, head snapping round to stare at him.

“No, Dickie. You didn’t see how many of those dollotrons that he makes he had in the north hideout. If he’s got anywhere near that many in the other places...” Jason says, looking up in thought.

“Jay?” Dick moves closer, resting a hand on his shoulder, and Jason looks down at him.

“He’d have an army. More than the police could ever hope to deal with.” Jason tells himself it’s the cold rain that’s making his blood turn to ice. “Maybe more than the Army could deal with.”

“He could take over Gotham?” Dick says, his eyes wide under his mask.

“He could destroy it.” Jason breathes out, desperately hoping he’s wrong.

***

Jason’s woken from his well earned nap by a huge crashing sound from the corridor outside the kitchen. He startles out of the comfortable rocking chair that’s tucked into the least traversed corner of the kitchen, dishcloth falling from its place covering his face, and is pushed to his feet by the chair’s momentum. He looks around automatically before hearing more noise from outside. Still groggy from his sleep he staggers to the kitchen door and pushes it open to see the chaos outside. 

A huge silver serving platter is rolling down the corridor, shards of glass and broken plates are scattered around and Stephanie is pressed back against the wall, her usual pale face almost bone white while she presses her fingers to her mouth to stop a scream. Her other hand is clutching a fish knife and holding it out in front of her defensively, pointing it towards the backstairs. Cassandra is next to her, one hand on her shoulder looking more worried than Jason’s ever seen her before. He looks to the backstairs, wondering what could be scaring Stephanie so damn badly.

Anna’s sitting on the stairs, face peeking out between the banisters with a smug smirk on her face. She reaches out one hand and twiddles her fingers in a lazy wave at Jason. He can feel the blood in his veins turning to ice, just at the sight of her. Anna’s no longer pretending to be the slightest bit friendly, there’s nothing but pure malevolence and spite coming from her. 

She kicks one of her feet up, hitting Tim’s jacket that’s hanging over the newel cap of the handrail and Stephanie squeaks despite herself. The noise spurs Jason into action, stepping in front of the girls and reaching out with an arm to push Stephanie behind him.

“Cain. Get Brown into the kitchen. Now.” Jason puts as much steel and confidence into his voice as he usually does as Robin, and Cassandra pulls Stephanie past him, through the thick green baize door to the relative safety of the kitchen. “You should leave.” He says in the direction of the Ghost, not quite looking her in the eyes. Something tells him to do that would be a very bad idea, something that would lead to ruin.

“Ye really are a canny laddie, bairn.” Anna whispers, nothing but mocking and loathing in her voice. “But ye’ll hae to dae better than that.”

“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed by thy name, your kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.” Jason starts reciting, hoping this’ll work. He’d never really paid much attention in church the few times he’d been forced to go by Sister Leslie before she was murdered, but even he knows the Lord’s Prayer.

“Really, bairn? Praying? From a godless heathen as ye?” Anna laughs viciously, lounging back against the stairs, unconcerned.

“Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses, as we give those who trespass against us.” Jason keeps going, seeing Anna start to twitch. Praying’s doing _something_ , so he keeps going.

“Prayers from the condemned to hell dinnae reach _Him_ d’ye ken? They cannae protect ye.” Anna snarls, face twisted up with hate, and it pushes Jason to be even louder and stronger in his praying.

“Lead us not into temptation, _and deliver us from evil_ , for thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, for ever and ever. Amen” Jason finishes, fists clenched at his sides. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Anna snarling, standing up jerkily, as if an invisible force is making her move. She tries to push against it, but it forces her back, and out along the corridor to the outside wall. It pushes her through the wall, her body melting through the stone as if she’s nothing but air.

Jason breathes out the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. He lets his eyes slip closed for a brief moment in relief and then opens them, full of determination. He walks into the kitchen, green baize door swinging behind him.

“All right. We have a small ghost problem. Time to do something about it.” Jason declares, ignoring that Stephanie’s sitting at the kitchen table, Cassandra hovering over her protectively, as pale as before and sipping at the brandy. Cassandra probably got it for her, given how her hand is trembling slightly.

“But... Dinner?” Cassandra says slowly, tilting her head and studying Jason’s body language.

“For once they can have sandwiches. And if they don’t like it they can bring it up with me.” Jason says, trying not to snarl. None of this is Cassandra’s fault after all. Cassandra nods, but Jason thinks she probably only understood half of that. 

“Brown, are you alright?” Jason takes off his apron and throws it on the table, rolling up his shirtsleeves.

“I’m... I was shaken, Mr Todd. I can’t lie about that. But I’m fine.” Stephanie says, rising to her feet. She smoothes down her skirts and pushes her shoulders back, fire coming into her eyes. “Whatever I can do to help, I want to do it.” Next to her, Cassandra nods.

“Do you know anything about keeping out ghosts?” Jason says, running is hands through his hair. He knows how to fight criminals and the animals they sometimes control, but ghosts aren’t on the Bat training curriculum.

“I... One of the women in our old garret swore by salt.” Stephanie says, somewhat hesitantly. “Said if we laid it across doors and windows it’d keep them out. I don’t know why. But she said it worked.”

“Right.” Jason nods, standing up to his full height and looking around the kitchen. “One thing we’ve got is plenty of salt. Which is good. And as long as it works, it doesn’t matter why.”

“Yes, Mr Todd.” Stephanie nods, colour is coming back into her cheeks, and Jason notices that she reaches out to take Cassandra’s hand and hold it tightly. He looks away, turning his gaze out of the window, but there’s nothing there except the expanse of grass beyond the gravel drive down to the pond. It’s a relief he won’t admit to that he can’t see _her_ out there.

“Brown, I want you and Cain to go into the library, and see if there’s anything in there that tells us out to get rid of them and not just keep them out.” Jason says, walking over to the big jar of salt he keeps with the other herbs and spices. “I’m going to get on with this salting business.”

“Yes Mr Todd.” Stephanie says, and she and Cassandra move towards the door, still holding hands.

“And Brown?” Jason says, before she gets out of the door.

“Yes Mr Todd?” Stephanie pauses and both of the girls turn to look at him.

“Don’t tell anyone but Mr Pennyworth about this. They wouldn’t understand or believe you.” Jason warns her. It’s not that Stephanie is the type to blabber on to anyone she meets, but Jason has no idea how the others might react to the idea of a haunting in the Manor.

“Yes Mr Todd.” Stephanie nods, and Cassandra does too.

“Right. Let’s get to work, girls.” Jason says, taking the lid off the jar of salt. 

“Yes Mr Todd!” Stephanie says, her equilibrium fully regained. Jason can tell she’s going to be a force to be reckoned with from now on. Well, so is he.

***

“Aha! I knew it!” Stephanie calls out triumphantly and Jason looks up from lifting weight on the exercise benches to see her standing at the bottom of the steps to the Cave. The cave she isn’t supposed to know about, let alone be in.

“Brown!” Dick says, rushing over to her. “You can’t be down here. It’s Mr Wayne’s private... Uh, his private...”

“That’s what the Batman wears!” Stephanie says, ignoring him and pushing past to stare at the Bat uniform hanging up by the dressing room. “And that’s Robin’s!”

“Uh...” Dick stammers, not used to being ignored so easily. It’s amusing to see.

“Mr Wayne is the Batman? Mr Wayne is the Batman!” Stephanie says, staring at the uniforms in wonder. “Which means you’re Robin!”

“Uh, well...” Dick looks over to Jason for help, but Jason sits back to watch with a smirk instead. Dick deserves it for not backing Jason up on telling Stephanie everything earlier.

“You gave me the card to come here and be employed.” Stephanie beams at Dick, clasping her hands together in front of her. 

“I. Uh.” Dick blinks, looking a bit panicked. Jason bites back a grin at the sight.

“Thank you!” Stephanie says earnestly, eyes shining in the gas light.

“Oh, you’re welcome.” Dick smiles, shrugging. “No! I mean, wait. No. No, I didn’t. Because I’m not Robin. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“And that’s not the Batman’s horseless carriage either, I suppose.” Stephanie says dryly, pointing over to the large machine parked by the Cave’s entrance tunnel.

“No. No, that is a figment of your imagination.” Dick nods seriously and Jason rolls his eyes. “You’re asleep! This is a dream! None of it’s real.” Stephanie gives him a disbelieving look, reaching out to pinch the bare skin of his lower arm. Dick yelps in surprise.

“A dream?” Stephanie says dryly, trying not to smile too widely at Dick’s pain.

“I... No. No, it’s all real. I’m Robin, Mr Wayne is the Batman. You’ve found us out.” Dick says, somewhat sadly and resigned to the fact that Stephanie’s found them out.

“Do the others know?” Stephanie says, walking around Dick to look at the rest of the Cave. Her eyes fall on Jason over by the exercise area, and he waves at her with a smirk. “Well, obviously Mr Todd knows. And I can’t imagine Mrs Wayne and Mr Pennyworth don’t know.”

“They know, yes. Tim knows. He’s been with us since the beginning.” Dick follows her, rubbing at the back of his neck as they slowly make their way towards Jason while Stephanie stops to look at everything on their path. “Carrie and Duke too.”

“So, I’m the only one who doesn’t apart from Cass? I suppose I haven’t been here very long. It’s a big secret to be trusted with.” Stephanie pauses to look a mallet taken from the Mad Clown’s sweetheart, so she doesn’t see Dick wincing behind her.

“I. Yes. It is.” Dick agrees, sending a pleading look Jason’s way. Sighing, Jason decides to take pity on Dick and help him explain.

“Brown.” Jason says as he stands up, wiping his hands free of the chalk they use to help with gripping the weights.

“Mr Todd. So, you’re in on this too?” Stephanie smiles at him, sounding proud of him. It makes Jason pause. He can count on one hand the amount of people who’ve sounded like that talking about him. And they all live in the Manor.

“I’m Robin on the nights Dickie isn’t.” Jason says, shrugging, and ignoring how that pulls on his scar tissue. He’s suddenly glad he didn’t forego wearing a shirt today for training.

“Oh! My.” Stephanie says in surprise and Jason shrugs, feeling a little bashful.

“I thought you should be told weeks ago, but I got outvoted.” Jason says, ignoring the despairing look Dick gives him out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh. Thank you for trusting me.” Stephanie says, looking almost shy. It makes Jason feel even worse for her. 

“Yes, well. We’re in the same boat, aren’t we?” Jason says, and Stephanie looks up at him and beams a smile so wide Jason thinks it must hurt a little. 

“We are, Mr Todd!” Stephanie nods, and her smile shows she remembers that conversation they had when she said that, weeks ago.

All Jason wants to do right now is usher Stephanie up the stairs and away from the truth. He’s ready to do it, about to step forward and subtly guide her back to the stairs with a hand on her shoulder when Cassandra comes out of the dressing room, and Stephanie turns to look at the newcomer. The way her face crumples in realisation that ‘her Cass’ had kept her involvement a secret makes Jason’s chest hurt in sympathy.

“Stephanie...” Dick starts, eyes wide and wondering how to explain Cassandra’s presence without making Stephanie feel as excluded as she actually has been.

“Well. Well. This explains a lot.” Stephanie says quietly, staring down at the training mats, and not meeting anyone’s eyes.

“Brown.” Jason tries, but Stephanie continues on, this time a little louder.

“I did think all this sneaking around was very suspect.” Stephanie reaches up to twist her braid around her fingers, almost lost in thought. “I decided to investigate this. I thought to myself ‘I can be just like Sherlock Holmes!’”

“Stephanie...” Dick tries again, reaching out to her, but Stephanie steps out of range, turning to look at them both.

“I should have known better.” Stephanie says, overly brightly. She’s obviously fighting back her feelings and Jason wants to punch things. He doesn’t like seeing her like this. “Be careful what you wish for.”

“Stephanie...” Dick moves forward, but Stephanie takes a step back, lifting her head and squaring her shoulders defiantly. Jason feels a swell of affection for her. She’s taking it better than he thought she would.

“Excuse me. I need to go back upstairs. I have work to do.” Stephanie starts walking to the stairs at a brisk pace, waving Cassandra away when she tries to go to her. She almost runs up the stairs, lifting her skirts out of the way, and once the clock behind closes behind her, Jason turns around and punches the wall. Hard.

***

Jason does his best to tamp down the panic threatening to overwhelm him. He forces himself to take slow breaths and to properly take in his surroundings, even as he kicks down the doors to gain access to the rooms in the supposedly empty building he and Batman are searching. Professor Pyg has had Dick for the last two hours, and _anything_ could have happened. He goes down a floor to the basement and sees a very definitely locked door. He can hear muffled voices behind it. It must be where they’re keeping Dick. From a small window high up in the wall, it looks like there’s another window further along to the locked, occupied room. Jason doubles back outside and finds the window. 

Pyg’s definitely in there. Jason can see the tips of the ears on his mask sticking up above a row of boxes. From the way they’re moving around the room, someone’s wearing it. Jason jimmies the window open quietly, glad that it’s big enough for him to get through. He drops silently to the floor, and crouches behind a box. When he’s sure no one’s noticed him enter the room, he creeps around the boxes, moving closer to the sound of voices.

“Is he coo-oming for yoooou~? Or are you just a plaything for him?” Pyg laughs, snorting at the end. Jason wants to punch him in the throat for the sound alone, never mind that he’s kidnapped Dick.

“It’s not true! That’s not how it is!” Dick cries out, sounding desperate. Jason risks peeking over the boxes, and sure enough, there’s Dick, in his Robin uniform, tied up with more ropes that could ever be necessary to a sturdy wooden chair.

“It’s tru-uuu-ue! I know it, you know it, what fun it’ll be-ee-ee when everyone finds out!” The pig masked villain sings out, and Jason watches Dick flinch in his bindings.

“You’re a lunatic! No one will believe you. And it isn’t true.” Dick spits out at Pyg, and Jason hides behind another box to inch closer. Dick’s bruised and bloody, but is otherwise fine. Jason forces himself not to rush in. He doesn’t know how many of Pyg’s dollotrons are around. He needs to get closer, get a better idea of the situation.

“Sir! Batman’s been spotted on the east side!” A random minion calls out and Professor Pyg twists to look at him.

“Well, what are we waiting fo-o-or Mr Toad?” Pyg sings out, twirling on his toes like a deranged ballerina. “Let’s catch us a Bat!”

“Batman will string you up and leave you for the police, Pyg! You won’t get away with this!” Dick snarls out, struggling harder against the ropes.

“I already have, Ro-ob-iin~” Pyg laughs, waddling out of storeroom and taking his minions with him. Jason breathes a sigh of relief and checks around to make sure they’re completely alone. It only takes a few seconds, and then he stands up and walks over to the chair that Dick is so thoroughly tied to.

“Can’t go one night without needing a rescue? Maybe I should start calling you damsel.” Jason jokes, but it falls flat before he’s even said it.

“Hilarious. Get me out of this.” Dick says, his own mouth flattened into a line.

“Sorry. I was worried about you.” Jason says quietly. He pulls out his knife from belt, and gets to work on cutting through the thick hemp ropes holding Dick to the chair.

“I know... I... Yeah, I know, Robin.” Dick says, flashing Jason a smile that serves as an apology, before taking the knife Jason offers him to free his ankles.

“We should leave; Batman can only hold them off for so long.” Jason nods, helping Dick stand up. He’s moving stiffly, and Jason thinks the bruises might extend to his midsection. He really hopes Dick hasn’t broken any ribs. They’re the worst.

“I don’t think I can fight.” Dick mutters, looking ashamed as he struggles to stand unaided.

“We don’t have to. We’re getting you out of here and then regrouping.” Jason says, slipping Dick’s arm over his shoulders. “Tactical retreat.”

“I hate that term.” Dick says idly, putting more of his weight on Jason. He’s limping slightly and Jason hopes it’s no more than a twisted ankle.

“I know, Robin.” Jason wraps his arm more securely around Dick’s waist. His coat’s missing, leaving him in the red and black of the Robin uniform. Somehow Jason thinks it suits Dick better not to be wearing the heavy coat.

“You came for me.” Dick whispers; something in his tone making Jason wonder if he thought that Jason wouldn’t. That’s odd. 

“Of course.” Jason says, looking over at Dick. He’s staring at Jason’s mask almost as if he doesn’t know who’s under it. “Always.”

“I... Robin, I need to tell you something.” Dick says right when they get to the window. Jason gives him a boost to crawl through it, and Dick manages although it’s a slow and clearly painful process.

“When we’re back home.” Jason pulls himself up through the window and then takes off his coat, wrapping it around Dick’s shoulders without thinking about it.

“Yes.” Dick says quietly, unusually subdued. Jason doesn’t dwell on it. He needs to focus on getting Dick back to the carriage without being spotted. He can worry about what Dick needs to tell him once they’re _safe_.

***

“That’s new.” Jason says, as he walks up to Dick peering at himself in the full length mirror in the cave. He’s seems to be trying out a new Robin uniform. The green gloves and boots have been traded for identical black ones, and the red jacket has been swapped for black. 

“Uh...” Dick says, turning around to look at Jason, and revealing the bright blue bird with wings outstretched, that covers his chest instead of the R. It’s the only splash of colour in the uniform that Jason can see anywhere, apart from Dick’s face.

“I like it. Losing the coat’s a good idea.” Jason says, giving the entire outfit a critical once over. The belt that holds the gadgets is still there, and the mask and pants haven’t changed. “But I didn’t realise we were changing our uniforms.”

“Jay. I uh, I was going to talk to you about this.” Dick says, looking as nervous as someone in a half mask can. “I already talked to Alfred and Mr Wayne about it.”

“I mean, I’m just saying a little warning, and asking my opinion would have been nice.” Jason shrugs, he’s a little unhappy that Dick wants to change their uniform without talking to him first, but well... this new one _is_ an improvement. 

“Jason.” Dick says, hands coming up to adjust the collar, almost defensively.

“I don’t _mind_ the change, Dickie.” Jason says, not wanting to upset Dick. “Really.”

“Jason.” Dick squares his shoulders and takes a deep breath. “It’s not what you think.”

“It isn’t?” Jason says, tilting his head and wondering what else it could be.

“No. The Robin uniform isn’t changing.” Dick says, pointing over to where Jason’s uniform is hanging up, unchanged.

“But if the Robin uniform isn’t changing, then what...” Jason frowns, looking between his uniform and Dick, standing there in all black.

“I’m not going to be Robin anymore.” Dick says hesitantly, looking over to desk where Alfred is showing Cassandra and Tim some blueprints of locks, as part of a lesson on how to gain entry in an emergency. The three of them are looking over to Jason and Dick with varying degrees of reluctance, resignation, and worry. Jason has the sinking feeling he’s the last to know about Dick’s decision. 

“What... What do you mean you’re not going to be Robin anymore?” Jason says, clenching his fists and trying to keep calm. It’s not working very well as he can see Cassandra step forward, only for Alfred to lay a hand on her shoulder and shake his head. He steers Cassandra away, and says something to Tim, who follows them, looking over his shoulder at Jason and Dick with worry. Jason waits for them to start climbing the stairs before he speaks again. “ _We_ are Robin. There is no Robin without _you_ , Dickie!”

“I...” Dick looks away, discomfort pouring from him. “I can’t be Robin anymore. It’s not right for either of us. It’s for the best.”

“It’s for the best? Well, of course it is!” Jason says, full of sarcasm. “You decided this. Without even talking to me.”

“Jason...” Dick tries to sound determined, but when he says Jason’s name, there’s an undercurrent of anxiousness there. 

“You’re not giving up fighting crime. That makes it obvious.” Jason points at Dick’s uniform.

“Nightwing. I’m Nightwing now.” Dick bites his lip, looking away from Jason to the floor.

“Nightwing? You’re naming yourself after that terrible fiction series? Are you serious?” Jason scoffs, feeling like the floor has dropped from under him. Dick’s already picked out a name. This isn’t a possibility, it’s all but a done deal.

“Jason. I have to do this.” Dick looks up, ignoring Jason’s comment about where he found the name in favour of breaking Jason’s heart.

“No.” Jason swallows thickly. “No, you don’t, Dickie. There was nothing wrong with us both being Robin. And if there was, you should have said something to me.”

“Jason, we need to spend some time apart.” Dick says, voice choking up a bit. “This, this between us,” he gestures between them, “it’s not _healthy_.”

“We’re Robin. We’ve _always_ been together. Why suddenly change that now? Why, Dick?” Jason loses his temper, finally yelling, and his voice echoes around the cave, disturbing several bats from their perches.

“This is for the best.” Dick says, looking up at Jason determined. “You can’t change my mind.”

“Fine. Fine. You want it to be like this? _Fine_.” Jason starts walking for the stairs, so angry that walking through the cave doesn’t even feel real, like it’s a dream. He walks past Dick, not looking at him, and makes his way upstairs. Dick doesn’t call out to him, and the silence that follows him bites as much as Dick’s rejection of Robin, of _him_.

He makes it to the kitchen without seeing anyone else and it’s a relief in some ways. He’s not sure he’d be able to keep a civil tongue in his head if he had.  
He closes the green baize door behind him and stomps over to the table. Stephanie’s over by the window, refreshing the salt line. She smacks the can of salt down hard, and Jason can see she’s just as angry as he is. It’s probably why he decides to talk to her. Misery loves company, after all.

“Brown.” Jason says loudly, making Stephanie jump, startling and twisting in the direction of his voice, her arms coming up defensively.

“Mr Todd.” Stephanie says between gritted teeth, and he supposes it’s not surprising that she’s not happy with him either.

“Grab the cinnamon apple tart and some cream. And the good brandy, and come over here.” Jason says, voice brooking no argument. He turns to the sideboard and grabs two bowls and spoons, as well as two glasses and then sits down at the table. When he looks over at her, Stephanie hasn’t moved.

“Mr Todd?” Stephanie’s staring at him, utterly confused, hair falling out of her braid.

“Grab the cinnamon apple tart and some cream. And the good brandy, and come over here. Don’t make me tell you again, Brown.” Jason sits down at the table, dropping the bowls, spoons and glasses down in front of him, patting at the chair next to him.

“Yes, Mr Todd.” Stephanie says, slightly begrudgingly. But she gets the tart and cream, and sets them on the table, turning back to the pantry for the brandy.

“The good brandy, Brown.” Jason says to her back as she reaches up to the high shelf it’s kept on.

“Are you sure? Aren’t we going to get into trouble?” Stephanie says, looking at him with a faint frown on her face.

“No. No, we are not.” Jason sits back in his chair. If anyone has a problem with him treating Stephanie, he’ll throw not telling him about Nightwing right back in their faces. He’s the cook here, he deserves some leeway.

“If you say so, Mr Todd.” Stephanie shrugs, coming back with the good brandy, and dropping into the chair next to him.

“So, Brown.” Jason says, cutting her a slice of tart and pouring cream over it, before passing her the bowl. “You’re still angry.”

“Yes, Mr Todd.” Stephanie picks up a spoon and cuts into her tart with more force than really needed.

“With Cain?” Jason serves himself, and Stephanie nods while he digs in. “I thought so.”

“With all due respect, Mr Todd, if you’re going to tell me I should forgive her...” Stephanie begins, with the long suffering tone of someone who’s had this conversation several times already.

“I’m not.” Jason interrupts her, thinking about how he’d feel if anyone tries to tell him to forgive Dick right now. He’d probably punch them. Well, he might just glower darkly at Alfred and Mrs Wayne; but anyone else will be getting a knuckle sandwich, courtesy of one angry and hurting cook.

“Then you... You’re not?” Stephanie says, mid-bite of tart. She’s blinking at him in surprise, and a drop of cream drips down her chin.

“No.” Jason uncaps the bottle of brandy and pours them both a generous glass.

“Oh. I... Really?” Stephanie takes the glass Jason offers her, and lets a small sip pass her lips.

“Really.” Jason nods, taking a more decent gulp himself. “Look, I don’t know why Cain decided not to tell you. I can only speak for myself, and say that if it had been my secret alone, _I_ would have told you before Cain came to work here.”

“Oh.” Stephanie says quietly, considering. She finishes of her slice of tart and takes another sip of brandy.

“But it isn’t just my secret to tell. There are other people to consider.” Jason takes another bite of tart, and wishes that he could swallow down his feelings as easily.

“I suppose.”Stephanie says slowly. “You know, it’s not so much _what_ she didn’t tell me, as it is she _didn’t_ tell me?”

“That makes sense.” Jason nods, taking another slug of brandy, and feeling the warming effects start to take hold.

“I... I’m surprised you’re agreeing with me.” Stephanie says, sitting back in her chair and looking sad.

“Yes. Well.” Jason shrugs. He doesn’t want to get into his own heartbreak just yet. This is supposed to be for Stephanie.

“I’m surprised you’re not telling me to forgive her.” Stephanie lifts her free hand to pick up the end of her braid and twirl it around her fingers.

“I think. I think you should give her an opportunity to explain why she didn’t tell you.” Jason says choosing his words carefully. He’d tried to give Dick that opportunity earlier, and Dick hadn’t taken it. Which hurts just as much as him going behind Jason’s back. “Hear her out, and if you don’t think her reasons are good enough, then don’t forgive her. But give _yourself_ the chance to hear her side.”

“I’ll think about it, Mr Todd.” Stephanie sets her glass down on the table and sighs heavily.

“Fair enough.” Jason finishes his glass and refills it. He’s not putting the brandy back until he’s had at least three good glasses.

“It’s just...” Stephanie sighs again. “I’m so angry she lied to me. I trusted her.”

“It’s worse like that, isn’t it?” Jason stares at the tabletop, mindlessly taking in the pattern on their bowls. Staring at the blue and white willow pattern makes his eyes cross.

“When it’s someone you love and trust? Yes.” Stephanie’s voice is thick with emotion. Jason thinks if he looks up he might see tears on her face. He doesn’t look up. 

“Strangers, people you don’t like? It’s disappointing but you can brace yourself for the hurt. But when it’s some you share your life with...” Jason trails off, thinking about betrayal, and how you never see it coming.

“It’s worse.”Stephanie says, laughing bitterly. “It really is, Mr Todd.”

“I know, Brown. I know.” Jason rests his elbows in the table, sliding them forward until he’s curled over the tabletop.

“Is that why we’re eating this?” Stephanie says, helping herself to another slice of tart, and shoving it into her mouth before she’s finished speaking.

“Yes.” Jason takes the bottle of brandy into his hand and spins it around, letting the light glint of the glass. 

“I...” Stephanie pauses to clear her mouth. “It’s really good.”

“Thanks. And you know what?” Jason says, perking up and taking a big gulp from his glass. “Fuck them. Eat something good. Drink something better. And _fuck them_.” He hears Stephanie gasp in shock at his language, but Jason can’t care right now.

“Did something happen, Mr Todd? With Mr Grayson?” Stephanie says, proving once again how observant and clever she really is.

“It was his choice.” Jason says, shrugging and glaring at the bottle of brandy. “What I want doesn’t matter. Apparently.”

“Oh, Mr Todd...” Stephanie says and Jason doesn’t need to look at her to know that there’ll be nothing but empathy on her face.

“And everyone knew, and no one warned me.” Jason continues, finally letting the bitterness out fully.

“Fuck them, Mr Todd.” Stephanie says, giggling at using the swear. Jason snorts, and looks over at her. Her face is dry, but the faint line between her eyebrows is proof that all is not right. 

“Except Mrs Wayne. We can pour her a glass.” Jason says, sitting back and feeling the alcohol make him sway slightly.

“Well, that’s very nice of you, Jason.” Mrs Wayne says from behind him and Jason looks up at her, too tipsy now to react faster.

“Mrs Wayne!” Stephanie cries out, lurching to her feet and automatically stroking at her hair and apron, in an attempt to look like the hard worker she actually is.

“Oh, don’t get up. The both of you look like you need it.” Mrs Wayne says with a small smile, her green eyes shining with mirth. “Having a party are we? I suppose I’m invited since I get a glass of... Brandy, is it?”

“I...” Stephanie falters. “Yes, Ma’am, it’s the good brandy!” Stephanie cringes, realising that she probably didn’t want to tell the boss’ wife that particular titbit.

“And I think I want a slice of that apple tart, too.” Mrs Wayne says, artfully sweeping into the chair the other side of Jason, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Yes, Ma’am.” Jason says, getting up to get her a bowl and spoon. His fingers feel clumsy as he picks them up.

“And then you two will give me _all_ of the gossip.” Mrs Wayne says, once Jason’s sitting back down, and serving her a generous slice of tart with cream. Mrs Wayne pats his hand as he passes her the bowl. Jason has to close his eyes for a second as that small act of affection hits him hard in the chest. At least _somebody_ still cares about him. 

“Yes, Ma’am.” Jason nods, sitting back down in his chair with a thump.

“And then we’ll form a plan to get back at them. Or just get them back.” Mrs Wayne says brightly. Jason blinks at her.

“Yes, Ma’am?” Stephanie says politely, clearly unsure if that’s what she wants.

“Yes.” Mrs Wayne says with a conspiratorial smirk, making Jason relax instantly.

Jason and Stephanie grin at each other before saying in unison. “Yes, Ma’am.”


	3. The Mystique of Mr Richard Grayson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mystique: an aura of mystery surrounding a particular person.

Dick finally finds Tim hiding behind the hay bales in the stables, sitting on a blanket and reading a book on finger prints. Dick throws Tim a grin, before throwing himself down to sprawl on the hay bales next to him.

“Timmy, can you sneak into the kitchen for me, and grab us a snack? I’m starving.” Dick gives Tim his most charming smile, sending a pleading look at him. “You’re the best at sneaking, after all.”

“Hmmm.” Tim flicks his gaze up and down Dick. “What’s in it for me?”

“You’ll get yourself one, that’s obvious.” Dick waves a hand, tucking the other behind his head. This is a surprisingly nice quiet spot to hide away in, the stone walls of the stable and the stack of hay bales creating a cosy little space, perfect for a nap.

“Hmmmm.” Tim says, not looking up and slowly turning the page of the book he’s reading. That’s strange, Dick thinks, he was sure Tim would jump at the chance. Time to up the ante, then.

“Oh come on, Jason’s still mad at me.” Dick says, pouting when he catches Tim sneaking glances at him. “I’ve been banned from the kitchen, except at mealtimes or if Mr Wayne’s specifically requested _I_ fetch something. He even put up notes on both kitchen doors! Please?”

“Hmmmm.” Tim says again, shoving his nose deeper into his book. 

“Please?” Dick’s outright begging now. This was supposed to be easy. But Tim seems to be if not taking Jason’s side, then staying neutral. Dick had automatically assumed Tim would take his side.

“I saw those notes. You two haven’t made up yet?” Tim says from inside the pages, sounding annoyed that they’re still fallen out.

“No.” Dick says miserably, thumping his head back on the hay bale. “He won’t even talk to me when we turn in for the night.”

“Have you tried apologising?” Tim says, completely free of sarcasm. As if Dick hadn’t tried that the next morning, only to ignored by Jason. Dick loves Tim a lot, but sometimes he misses the obvious.

“Of course!” Dick sighs heavily. “I didn’t think he’d take it this bad.”

“Well...” Tim peeks over his book at Dick, trailing off when he sees Dick’s clearly unhappy face.

“What, Timmy?” Dick encourages him. Tim can be pretty naive, but he’s also one of the most insightful people Dick knows.

“Are you really that surprised?” Tim shrugs. “I mean you guys have always been Robin _together_ , and then you change everything without even talking to him first? Of course he’s mad.”

“I knew he’d be angry. I just thought...” Dick pauses, he’d expected Jason to be angry at the changes, but he hadn’t thought Jason would carry that anger over into their everyday life. It’s only Robin that’s changed between them after all. “I thought he’d be over it by now.”

“Really?” Tim says, eyebrows rising up in surprise, or no, incredulation. Thanks, Mr Pennyworth, for the education.

“We couldn’t both be Robin forever. This is for the best.” Dick shrugs, it’s obvious isn’t it?

“Why not?” Tim says, in that shrewd, calculating way of his.

“What?” Dick frowns, sitting up on his elbows to look at Tim better.

“Why couldn’t you both be Robin forever?” Tim clarifies, tilting his head at Dick, as if he’s analysing his every reaction. “You didn’t talk to me or Jason about it. You’ve been Robin for so long. I always thought _I’d_ be Robin with you two.”

“You can still be Robin!” Dick says, hoping to dodge the question. He doesn’t want to admit that what Professor Pyg said got to him. That it rattled him enough he’d decided to completely change personas.

“Right. Because Jason will take that well.” Tim scoffs, shaking his head at Dick. “You’ve ditched him, but it’s OK, because here’s a replacement!”

“I... That is not what I meant.” Dick says, blinking rapidly. Truth be told, he hadn’t thought about Tim at all when making this decision.

“I know that.” Tim says, staring at Dick levelly. “ _He_ won’t.”

“I don’t know how to explain it without him yelling at me.” Dick sits up properly, and runs a hand over his long hair, smoothing it down again. “ _Maybe_ I should pull rank, and get my junior footman to explain it for me.” Dick grins, only to see Tim rolling his eyes at him.

“That won’t work.” Tim says with utter certainty, his big eyes shining guilelessly.

“Why not?” Dick says, confused. Tim explaining it would work out great. Why is he so sure it won’t?

“Because _I_ don’t understand why you did it either.” Tim sits back and crosses his arms, still giving Dick that soul searing stare.

“Timmy...” Dick blinks, internally reeling at the idea that Tim doesn’t get it. Dick’s really in trouble then. How on earth is he going to explain it to Jason without telling the truth? 

“You’re going to have to get that snack yourself, Dickie.” Tim says, making a shooing motion with his hands at Dick. “Now you’ll have to excuse me, I have a book to read, and work to avoid!”

“I should have Alfred sack you, Timmy!” Dick grumbles as he disappears around the corner. Reaching up to smooth his hair down, Dick braces himself for the no doubt icy reception he’ll get from Jason, and starts walking back to the kitchen.

He pauses at the kitchen door, spotting Mr Pennyworth in his usual chair, and breathes a sigh of relief. Jason won’t be friendly no matter what, but at least with Mr Pennyworth there, he won’t be outright rude. He turns the knob to the door and steps through, flashing a quick smile at Mr Pennyworth.

“Mr Todd? Is there any chance of a snack?” Dick tones down his usual cheerfulness, hoping that Jason will realise that Dick’s taking his upset quite seriously. Jason looks up from the table where he’s kneading dough for bread.

“No. Wait ‘til supper.” Jason grits out between his teeth, somehow managing not to bite Dick’s head off.

“I missed lunch taking Mrs Wayne into town.” Dick says quietly. “I’m not expecting you to make something. Leftovers would be fine.”

Jason doesn’t say anything but looks over at him to glare right through Dick, it feels like. Dick shuffles on the spot, feeling small and worthless. His stomach chooses that moment to gurgle loudly, and while usually he’d make a shameless joke about feeding the monster, Dick instead flushes red and looks down at the floor.

“The gardeners did bring in some extra windfall apples.” Mr Pennyworth speaks up when the lingering silence turns uncomfortable. “Perhaps one of those would do, if you don’t have any plans for them yet, Mr Todd?”

“Yes, that would be wonderful.” Dick says, glancing at Mr Pennyworth and seeing a sympathetic smile in his face. “If there’s one going free, Mr Todd?”

“Ain’t got no plans for ‘em. Fine. Have one.” Jason leans over the table to pick up an apple from the bowl there and throws it at Dick, harder than necessary. It’s only Dick’s years of training that stop him from dropping the apple.

“Thank you, Mr Todd.” Dick says, fighting back tears. “I’ll let you both get on.” 

“Hmmph.” Jason says, kneading the bread dough tellingly hard. 

Dick grips his apple and slips out of the kitchen, face heated and heart heavy. He makes it to the downstairs water closet and locks himself in, panting at the effort of not crying. He grips at the gold pendant around his neck Jason gave him, and wipes at his face, angry with himself for letting such a small thing hurt him so much. He needs Jason to forgive him. But he can’t tell him the truth. Jason would laugh and tell him he’s being a fool.

But the only thing that matters to Dick is keeping Jason safe. If he has to take Jason’s wrath to do that, then he will.

***

“Simply ravishing, my word!” Mr Conway beams at Dick while he holds his leg up in the air by his head, the position causing his skirts to ride up and show off Dick’s stocking encased legs. The theatre manager is sitting in the second row of seats while Dick shows off his assets and his dancing ability. Going undercover as a dancing girl to investigate the disappearance of the favourite chorus girl of one of Mr Wayne’s ‘society friends’ isn’t exactly Dick’s idea of a good time, but he can’t deny that the easy praise is making him flush happily. 

“Thank you, Mr Conway.” Dick says, forcing his voice up into a high, girlish falsetto. Mrs Wayne had taught him all she knew about performing in the theatre, including the voice, and he’d used it and a blonde wig to surprise Jason months ago. Jason hadn’t recognised him and it hadn’t been until Dick dropped the voice, and took off the wig as best as he could in the headlock Jason had him in, that Jason had let go. They’d had fun once Dick put the wig back on though...

“You are hired, my dear! Are you available for tonight?” The manager calls out with a friendly smile.

“Yes, Mr Conway!” Dick calls back, lowering his leg back to the stage floor.

“Excellent. Do go backstage and have Eliza fit you up for the chorus girl costumes.” Mr Conway shoos him with a hand, and Dick automatically looks over to the stage wings at the gesture.

“Right away, Mr Conway.” Dick bobs his head, his long wig bouncing with the motion, and exits Stage Right.

Dick hurries backstage to find a harried young woman, who’s obviously Eliza, the seamstress for the theatre, snapping at the various gaggle of chorus line girls waiting for their fittings. They’re all in various stages of undress, some in their corsets and bloomers, some with robes wrapped around them, and in comparison Dick feels overdressed in his dark blue cotton dress and long black wig. Eliza waves him over with a glare, and Dick gives her his best ‘I’m nervous and new, please be nice to me’ smile. The glare softens and Eliza whips out a tape measure.

“Name?” Eliza says, pencil hovering over a small notepad.

“Dita Teese.” Dick says, dipping his head in a hello. Eliza scrutinises him, before snapping the tape around Dick’s waist to take his measurements.

“Wearing a boned corset?” Eliza tuts as her hands move over the whale bones. “They’re bad for your health, luv.”

“I know.” Dick says, putting the right amount of resignation into his high tone. “But my man likes the tiny waist, so what can I do?”

“Find a better man.” Eliza says with a snort, measuring from Dick’s waist down to his ankles. “Looker like you won’t have no trouble with that.”

“Me Ma told me to get hitched to him, and then lose the corset. Not much he can do then.” Dick says with a wink, and Eliza laughs, shaking her head.

“You’re a charmer and no mistake, aren’t you?” Eliza moves her measuring tape to around Dick’s bust line. “Just like Minnie.”

“Minnie?” Dick says tilting his head in pretend confusion. The missing girl he’s been sent to track down is Minnie. He’s in luck already.

“Aye. Pretty, cheerful girl. She quit two weeks ago. I miss her.” Eliza says with a clear wistfulness. “We joined this troupe together.”

“She quit? Why would anyone want to do that?” Dick says, all wide eyed with false naivety. 

“Love, apparently!” Eliza rolls her eyes. “She married her fella and they moved out to Central City, where his folks are. She sent a photograph of their new place, with her and her fella beaming out front of it.” 

“Oh! Lucky her. A house of their own?” Dick puts as much excitement into his voice as he can. His case is pretty much over once he looks at that photograph and verifies that Minnie’s there of her own free will. 

“You can see why she left, huh?” Eliza says with a dry knowing tone, and a sly look at Dick as she rifles through the rack and finds two different dresses that she turns and holds up against Dick, one in each hand.

“Well... I’d be tempted, at least.” Dick says a little begrudgingly, shrugging slightly, and Eliza snorts in amusement again, nodding at both dresses. 

“I wouldn’t. The theatre’s my one true love.” Eliza hangs up the costume dresses and takes out a two tags, whipping out a pencil and writing down ‘Dita Teese’ on both of them, before pinning them to the dresses. “Now don’t forget, these ones are yours.” Dick nods and gives Eliza a smile. “Knock ‘em dead, Dita.”

“Yes, Miss Eliza!” Dick says, not faking his enthusiasm. He likes Eliza, and just for her he’ll do his best tonight. He wanders over to the pin board on the wall, seeing that there _is_ a picture of a happy smiling couple in front of a house in Central City. The easy relaxed smile on Minnie’s face tells Dick all he needs to know. She’s there because she’s happy and in love and making a new life for herself. Mr Wayne’s friend can stop worrying about Minnie, even though he’s lost his chance with her.

Dick’s only been on stage for one song as a member of the chorus line, but the elation, the heart pounding desire to get back out onstage he feels at the applause of the audience once they finish “Can You Tame Wild Wimmen?”, is something he knows he’s going to come back for more of. In the rush of costume changes, and Dick struggling out of one dress and into another in the space of one song, he overhears something concerning.

“Ya really think Professor Pyg an’ Mr Toad are the way of the future?” One of the chorus girls, Sally, Dick thinks, hoping that’s the right name after the barely there introductions he’d had before rehearsals, whispers to the girl to her right. Dick doesn’t know her name, but the bright red of her hair is unmistakeable.

“Most certainly! The amount of money they’re offering? They have big backers, Sal.” The redhead whispers back, before noticing Dick watching them. She glares at him, and Dick drops his gaze to the floor.

“I heard they got the money from robbing the banks!” Sally says, shaking her head at her friend. “An’ ‘sides, have ya seen those Dolly-oh-trams of theirs?”

“They aren’t that bad...” The redhead says with a look on her face that implies she’s doesn’t believe what she’s saying.

“Euphie, ya’re out of ya mind! They’re the creepiest damn things. I ain’t going to no meeting where they’re at.” Sally says, in a voice brooking no arguments. She shakes her head and pulls her dress up.

“I’m not going if you’re not!” Euphie says in distress. “Sal, think of the money!”

“Euphie, they ain’t gonna pay that to _no one_. They’re gonna turn whoever attends into a Dolly or kill ‘em. We ain’t going.” Sally says firmly, attaching her ‘notice me’ hat to her mound of chocolate brown curls with ease.

“Fine.” Euphie says in huff, pulling on her dress, doing up the fastenings. She turns on her heel and makes for the stage, giving Dick a glare that could peel paint as she stalks by him.

Dick watches her go, and realises that he’s going to have to do some work here before she’ll trust him with the information she has. Which means he’s going to have to come back tomorrow, and probably the rest of the week, judging by the force of the glare she gave him just now. 

What a shame. That means he’ll have to go out on stage again. Oh well, it can’t be helped, he grins to himself. It gets him out of the Manor, and gives him more time without Jason’s anger. And if he’s actually enjoying himself a little, dancing in the bright blue sateen dress and black lace gloves, and the winks of the stagehands backstage give him a small thrill that he’ll never act on, well, he can have a few harmless secrets to himself, can’t he?

***

Dick follows Batman and Batgirl in through the open window of the warehouse in the north of Gotham that Jason identified as a Pyg and Toad hideout a few weeks ago. It’s not the same one that Dick was abducted to, which gives Dick a private sense of relief, although he does his best not to show anything like it on his face.

Batman can be surprisingly quiet on his feet for such a big man, and Batgirl is startlingly silent when out on patrol. Dick does his best to follow in their footsteps, both metaphorically and literally, as they’re all trying to avoid making any of the floorboards creak or squeak and announce their presence before they’re ready. Just as Jason said, the place is too clean, despite the attempt to make it look abandoned. The three of them creep silently through the empty room to the hallway, listening out for any signs of life bigger than a rat.

Dick catches sight of the three of them in a window, seeing their reflections easily, and no window in an abandoned building should be able to show off the smallest details in their uniforms like this one does. It’s so clean that Dick can almost pick out the stitching in Batman’s black Ulster coat, and the faint scar line in his cowl that traces from temple to the back of his head. Even the buttons of his gray double breasted jacket are visible, and the burst of yellow on his bat insignia is eye catching. In comparison, Batgirl’s full face mask is somewhat creepy, and the goggles covering her eyes only amplifies the effect. Her Ulster coat is fastened up, covering her tight black pants and top. There’s no colour on her outfit at all.

Dick’s new Nightwing uniform is somewhere in between the two of them. The darker colours of his uniform blend seamlessly with the shadows, even the slash of blue across double breasted jacket’s chest merges with the darkness. He lacks the Ulster coat, but otherwise in all black and covered from head to toe, he looks like he belongs with Batman and Batgirl. But the window is too clean. It’s an obvious trap, and the three of them only have time to look at each other before a door at the end of the floor creaks open and a dollotron pulls his way through the gap, rather than letting the door open all the way.

The dollotron moves jerkily towards them, and Batman strides towards him, expertly knocking him out and carefully laying him down on the floor. As a crouching Batman turns to speak to them, another dollotron appears, and extra sets of hands creep around the door to pull it fully open, revealing a room full of dollotrons all just waiting to attack them.

They rush through the door before Dick can even open his mouth to warn Batman. Several of them pile on top of the crouching Batman, covering him almost completely. It’s a strange thing to see Batman push his way up underneath from a pile of writhing dollotrons to throw this way and that, as he reaches his full height.

More and more of them stumble out into the hallway, blocking the way forward and moving almost as a wall towards them. Batgirl is in the ready stance, arms and legs braced in a defensive position, and Dick shakes himself and does the same. They do have an escape to their backs if they really need it, but between the three of them, they have a good chance of breaking through.

The wall of dollotrons quickly surrounds them and Dick loses himself to the frantic rhythm of punches, kicks, dodges, sidesteps, and headlocks used as braces to flip himself over his opponents. In the periphery of his vision, Dick can see Batgirl and Batman do much the same, taking out dollotron after dollotron until the floor is covered with the unconscious, unwilling, stooges of Professor Pyg and Mr Toad.

But the dollotrons keep coming with no respite. More and more pour through the door in a seemingly never ending stream. Dick’s an athletic young man, and he can fight for hours on end during a patrol, but this amount of enemies is starting to slow him down, no matter how many flips and kicks he gives to make some space around himself.

One of them comes at him surprisingly low, and her shoulder catches him in the lowest rib, forcing him to stagger backward under her weight. It winds Dick, leaving him gasping for breath as he moves back from the packed hallway to the empty room they gained entry through. Dick’s bent over, but he still manages to sharply slam down with his elbow into the back of the dollotron still hanging onto him.

He’s lost sight of Batman and Batgirl, and a thrill of panic goes through him. He fights it down and headbutts a dollotron who’s got too close while he was distracted. But then Batman bursts through into the room and Batgirl follows after, and everything is lost in the white noise of fighting for his life. 

They push back towards the window, all showing signs of exhaustion, even Batgirl is visibly breathing heavily, and finally it looks like the dollotrons are down and no more are coming. Batman sends his grapple line out and up to the building across the street, jumping out with ease, and Batgirl and Dick follow after him. Dick punches the button on his grapple line to rappel him up to the rooftop, and only relaxes when he hears three sets of boots thump down on the rooftop. 

“That... That was too close for comfort, Batman.” Dick pants out, still slightly bent over from his exertations.

“Agreed, Nightwing.” Batman says, gritting his teeth in frustration. “Pyg and Toad had that place trapped and waiting for us.”  
Batgirl says nothing, but points at the building they’ve just escaped from. Flickering light is clear through the first floor windows, and the tell tale plumes of smoke drifting up into the sky make it obvious that Pyg’s dollotrons have orders to torch the place. Any evidence or leads they may be able to glean from the offices or any of the dollotrons is literally going up in smoke before their very eyes.

“Damn it all.” Dick breathes out, staring as the flames catch up the sides of the building and start to engulf it too quickly to be anything but planned.

“Language, Nightwing.” Batman says automatically, even though Dick’s heard him use much worse himself.

“Yes Boss. Sorry, Boss.” Dick says absently as the blaze across the street burns its merry way into an inferno.

“Batgirl. Take this message to the Fire Brigade on Sprang and Finger.” Batman orders, taking out a small notebook and scribbling down the address of the building and what accelerants he thinks have been used. He hands the note to Batgirl who nods and takes off at speed across the rooftops.

“How many hideouts do we have left to search, Boss?” Dick says, straightening up and putting his hands on his hips in an effort to brace his rib. That one dollotron had got a good jab in there, after all.

“Just the one. It’s the only place left to hide now that he’s burnt this one down.” Batman stares at the inferno, and Dick wishes he knew what the man was thinking.

“That’s good, right? We’re closing in on them?” Dick says, trying to encourage a continuing conversation, despite the fact that Batman is always closed lipped in uniform. The complete opposite to how chatty he often can be at home.

“Yes, and no.” Batman sighs. “We know where to find them. The downside is that they know we’re coming.”

***

Dick can’t quite put his finger on exactly what’s different about the way Mrs Wayne is acting, but she certainly is. It’s small things, things in isolation that would mean nothing, but build up to a picture that’s not quite a perfect image, as if Dick’s looking at photograph through some badly made glass, slightly wavy and diffused in parts. 

Mrs Wayne is still as well dressed and coiffed as ever, in her usual shades of purple, so it’s not her appearance that jumps out at Dick. She _is_ leaving her rooms later in the morning, not that she or Mr Wayne have ever been early risers; but now she misses breakfast completely, and only eats some buttered toast with ginger tea well into the middle of the morning. 

She’s just as friendly with Jason as she’s ever been, and seems to be the only one apart from Stephanie that can make him smile with no effort. Mrs Wayne’s as playful and teasing with Mr Wayne as she usually is, cheerfully dragging him to this social function and that as she thinks society demands, while Mr Wayne bears the socialising with as much grace and good humour as he can manage, snubbing all those that turn their noses up at her with a glee that she only just manages to restrain to an acceptable smugness. Dick’s even seen her taking Stephanie outside after lunch and teaching her how to use a whip, something that delights Stephanie more than Dick though it could.

The only other thing that Dick can definitively name as not normal is that she’ll arrive in a room and sit down as soon she’s physically able. Mrs Wayne is not the type to sit around and do nothing, if she runs out of things to do as lady of the house; she’ll take herself down to the kitchen to assist Jason in whatever he asks. But these days, she seems to want to be off her feet, and if Dick didn’t know she hasn’t injured either of her ankles, he’d think she was merely resting and healing.

Not that there’s currently any sign of that, as he’s accompanying Mrs Wayne on a shopping trip for next week’s gala. Her dress has had its last fitting, and now she needs all the accoutrements a lady of her standing both needs and deserves for a new outfit. They’ve been around the milliner’s for a new matching hat, the jeweller’s for a new pendant and earrings, and the glover’s for opera length silk gloves. The only place left is the cobbler’s for a new pair of heeled boots. 

“Dick?” Mrs Wayne says with a small smirk, as Dick’s ripped out of his musings and startles.

“Yes, Ma’am?” Dick says, regaining his equilibrium, realising that perhaps the lobby of the glover’s isn’t the place to lose track of his thoughts.

“If you’re quite done writing the next thrilling instalment of Nightwing and Flamebird in your head, could you carry these?” Mrs Wayne says with amusement, handing him the third box of the shopping trip, the previous two being the hat and jewellery.

“Oh! Yes, Ma’am. Sorry Ma’am.” Dick says, hoping his face isn’t as red as it feels. It’s a little embarrassing to be caught out by your employer in public after all, and Dick’s crafted an image of the most attentive footman he can be for himself.

“It’s quite alright.” Mrs Wayne says graciously, as she turns to head out of the door of the glover’s store. “Although I suspect you weren’t really writing fantastical space adventures, were you?”

“Ah, no, Ma’am.” Dick manages to slip ahead of her and hold the door open for her, following through after her.

“I thought so.” Mrs Wayne nods, with a knowing smile on her pretty face as they begin to walk back to where the carriage is parked at the end of the avenue. “I’m not one for giving out advice unasked, but... Life would be much smoother for all of us if you’d apologise to Jason.”

“Ma’am, I...” Dick almost misses his step in surprise, he hadn’t realised that either she or Mr Wayne knew that Jason’s fallen out with him. 

“I’m not sticking my nose in, Dick. But I do know you caused it.” Mrs Wayne says in a patient tone. “So, for the sake of all our stomachs, please smooth things over with our beloved cook, won’t you?”

“I’ll try Ma’am.” Dick promises, finally unable to fight back the flush of embarrassment anymore. “I messed up something awful. I don’t know if he’ll forgive me, even if I grovel.”

“A little grovelling does a man good every once in a while.” Mrs Wayne smirks, and that look speaks of the many times he’s heard Mr Wayne apologise for one thoughtless thing or the other that he’d done or said. “It’s simply your turn this time.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Dick tries to keep his voice even. The problem is that he would do the same thing again in a heartbeat, and he thinks Jason knows that. It might be why he’s so angry.

“And don’t worry about Jason not forgiving you.” Mrs Wayne says, reaching up automatically to hold her hat on her head as a large gust of wind blows down along the avenue. “You’re that boy’s closest and dearest friend. He’ll forgive you. I might have told him to make you work for it, but he’ll do it eventually.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Dick ducks his head, feeling strangely settled, holding on tight to the boxes close to him as the wind buffets them about.

“Good.” Mrs Wayne says, looking him up and down critically. “You’re looking much better now.”

“Yes Ma’am.” Dick says, a small smile forcing its way back onto his face. “Thank you.”

“Nonsense. Can’t have two of my favourite boys fighting.” Mrs Wayne shakes her head. “It makes Jason’s desserts have a tinge of bitterness about them. I like my desserts sweet, thank you very much.” 

***

Given Euphie’s apparent dislike of Dita Teese, Dick decides to approach Sally about the Pyg and Toad affair. It’s somewhat difficult in between musical numbers to try and catch the girl’s eye and talk to her. It should bother Dick more, but truthfully, every night he fails to talk to Sally is another night he gets to come back to the theatre.

It’s wonderfully freeing, despite the cinch and pinch of his corset, being able to be someone else, just for a few hours. Dita doesn’t have to worry about fighting criminals or getting hurt. Dita’s man loves her madly and wants to marry her; she’s working in the theatre out of a love for dancing, and to save up for their own place. Dita can wear pretty things, throw her arms out in joy, and wink at men as much as she likes with no one judging her. Dita loves life and is always happy, and for a few hours a night Dick forgets everything but the steps and the songs, flying free on the melodies.

“Sally! I’ve been meaning to talk to you for ages!” Dick says, sidling up to her finally while Sally’s lacing up her boots after the show.

“Dita?” Sally glances over at him, surprised to be spoken to. “Really? What about?”

“Ah, well.” Dick ducks his head and tries to look like he’s blushing. “I overheard you and Euphie talking about a job which pays really well?”

“Uh huh.” Sally turns back to lacing up her boots, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“I was wondering if there was any way of being part of that?” Dick continues, walking the fine line between pushy and conversational. “It was something about a Pig and Toad?”

“Oh. That.” Sally frowns, turning to look at Dick. “That were a onetime thing; an’ I think it happened last week? So I couldn’t help ya out, even if I thought workin’ for them were a good idea. They’re bad people.”

“Oh. Darn. I could have used the money.” Dick shrugs, trying to be casual and unaffected by the news he’s missed the chance. “Thanks anyway, Sally.”

“Oh, that’s alright. Sorry I weren’t more help.” Sally stands up and pulls on her shawl. “See ya t’morra, Dita.”

“Oh yes. Goodnight, Sally.” Dick sighs as Sally walks out the stage side door. He reaches up to take off his feathered fascinator and sighs. He doesn’t want to stop coming to the theatre, but with the lead long gone, he’s not really got any excuse. That is, unless he tells a little white lie to Mr Wayne and pretends he’s yet to speak to Sally...

He shouldn’t do that. He should be honest, and admit his lead hasn’t panned out. And yet, Dick doesn’t want to. He’s come to crave the time he gets to be Dita, even though it’s only been two weeks. It fulfils something in him he hadn’t realised he needed. He’s going to be Dita as long as he can be. 

***

The latest show Dick dances in at the theatre goes even better than the ones that had gone before it, and Dick’s riding the performer’s high right now. He doesn’t even mind when one of his fellow dancers vomits on his boots after a particularly taxing number. As he’s washing his boots off, one of her friends approaches and explains that the morning sickness that comes with pregnancy doesn’t actually stop in the morning, so Dick doesn’t have to worry about getting ill himself.

Not that it had even occurred to Dick that he might get sick, but he thanks the girl with a smile and pays no more mind to it. That is, until he gets home and sees Mrs Wayne sitting in the chair by the fire in the parlour. She’s slouching back in the deeply cushioned chair, dressed only in her nightgown and robe, her hair loose around her shoulders and a troubled but strangely familiar look on her face.

He’s about to go in and ask if she needs anything when Mr Wayne walks by and into the parlour, carrying a tray with a teapot and cup, some dry crackers and the faint scent of ginger tea lingering in the air. 

“Feeling any better?” Mr Wayne says, with obvious concern in his voice.

“Some. I can’t wait until this is over.” Mrs Wayne says through thin lips, clearly tired.

“I’m sorry.” Mr Wayne sets down the tray and sits down on the floor by her feet.

“No. You’re not.” Mrs Wayne says amused.

“Well... I’m sorry you’re suffering.” Mr Wayne tries to hold back a smile. “But I can’t be sorry about why.”

“Hmmm. I _suppose_ that’s fair enough.” Mrs Wayne smirks.

“Tea?” Mr Wayne lifts the teapot up.

“I’ll try some.” Mrs Wayne says, accepting the cup from Mr Wayne. Her face goes paler, and she scrunches her nose up for a moment, exactly the same way the dancer at the theatre did before her morning sickness covered Dick’s boots. Mrs Wayne however, seems to regain enough control over herself to take a delicate sip of the ginger tea. “I’m growing so bored of this tea, but it really does help.” Mrs Wayne sighs, and Mr Wayne gently takes her hand and holds it in his.

Dick steps back from his spot by the door, all the symptoms Mrs Wayne has been having over the last few weeks match, and Dick’s kicking himself for not noticing it sooner. Mrs Wayne’s _pregnant_. They’re going to have a baby! 

Dick can’t stop the smile on his face at the happy news. He’s so excited, he bounds up the stairs to their bedroom. He’s got to tell Jason, because this is so _wonderful_! Unless Jason already knows... But surely Jason would have told him? Even with the distance between them. Dick slows in his tracks and breathes through the pain. Surely this is important enough for them to talk about?

Well, Dick thinks, he’s about to find out.

***

Jason’s not there when Dick opens the door to their bedroom. It’s both a relief and a disappointment, but it gives Dick time to formulate a plan. This distance, the argument, and the hurt feelings between them needs to stop, so Dick’s going to make it. If that means he has to go all out and seduce Jason back to him, then, well... That’s damn well what he’s going to do.

And the best way to do that is to go for it without restrictions. Dick strips off, throwing his clothes over his wooden chair in a messy pile, and bends down beneath his bed to pull out his rectal dilators. He opens the small jar of oil he keeps with them and slicks his hole up with trembling fingers. He hasn’t actually used a dilator since the argument with Jason weeks ago and he hadn’t realised how badly his body needed this. 

He tries to push the medium sized one in, and the resistance is too much. Dick curses, pulling it away from his body and wiping it off, replacing it in the box, and taking out the smallest one. He spreads a little extra oil on it and slides it in, sighing in relief as it breaches his hole and sinks in deeper much more easily. For him, there’s no feeling quite like the one of his ass closing around something hard and heavy inside it, and Dick stands there, relishing it for a few blissful moments. 

Then he pulls on his pyjamas, sets the box back under his bed and waits for Jason to come back. Luckily, he doesn’t have to wait more than a minute or two before Jason swings through the door and scowls at seeing him.

“You’re back early.” Jason says, not looking happy to see Dick in the slightest.

“I think you lost track of time actually.” Dick tries to smile, but Jason looks away from him.

“Hmmph.” Jason grunts, pulling off his woollen cardigan and kicking his shoes off.

“Mrs Wayne’s pregnant. Did you know?” Dick says after a few moments of awkward silence.

“Yeah.” Jason says slowly, looking over at Dick. “She asked me not to tell. So I didn’t.”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s more than fair enough.” Dick shrugs. If Mrs Wayne asked him to keep quiet, then Dick wouldn’t have wanted Jason to tell him anyway.

“I’m going to bed.” Jason shrugs, clearly looking to shut down any further conversation.

“Wait!” Dick cries out, jumping off his bed and moving to Jason. Jason glares at him, but does wait, and Dick has to take that as a positive sign, he has to. The alternative is unbearable. Dick leans in and his lips barely brush Jason’s before Jason’s jolting back and staring at him in shock.

“What the fuck, Dick?” Jason growls, pushing him back with a hurt look on his face.

“I want to kiss my sweetheart.” Dick says, determined to bridge the gap between them. “I know we’ve had a falling out, and you’re still angry with me. But it’s been weeks, Jason.”

“Falling out.” Jason says flatly. When he continues his voice rises in pitch. “Falling out? You broke it off with me! Of course it’s been weeks!”

“Wait, what?” Dick stares at Jason flabbergasted. “I didn’t break it off!”

“What the hell else do you call us not being Robin together anymore?” Jason scoffs, staring at Dick with rising fury.

“That was work!” Dick protests. Jason thought he’d left him? This wasn’t just about the Nightwing suit? Dick suddenly realises that he’s made even more of a mess of things than he thought he had. “Not... Not _us_!”

“You...” Jason snarls. “You’re unbelievable. You expect me to believe that? You expect me to...” Jason trails off staring at Dick’s face and the anger fades away to confusion. “You... really thought that’s what you said to me?”

“It _is_ what I said to you!” Dick says, clenching his fists by his sides in an effort to stop shaking in horror.

“You...” Jason shakes his head in disbelief, sitting down heavily on his bed. “Dick Grayson, you are the most unbelievable idiot ever.”

“I know. But I’m your idiot.” Dick says, wrapping his arms around himself, heart breaking over the fact that Jason had thought they were over, and it was Dick who had let that misconception linger on this long. “Aren’t I?”

“Always.” Jason says, sounding tired and rubbing his hand over his face. Dick’s heart pulses in his chest painfully. He takes the few steps over to Jason’s bed and kneels down in his lap. Pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“Let me make it up to you?” Dick says gently, ready to start begging if that’s what it takes. Jason’s hands lift to rest lightly on Dick’s thighs, like they always do.

“Oh, you’re gonna, Dickie. You’re really gonna.” Jason shakes his head again before a wicked smirk appears on his handsome face. He lifts a hand to the back of Dick’s neck and shoves him down, Dick’s face going into Jason’s pillow. Dick flails for a moment. “You’re a bad boy and you need a spanking.”

Dick moans, unable to do anything more that grip the pillow with both hands before Jason brings his free hand down on Dick’s ass. It stings and it jolts the dilator inside him and Dick inhales sharply before whining. But he lifts his hips in silent supplication that Jason will give him more, and Jason doesn’t disappoint. He rains down blows for a solid minute more until Dick’s squirming and near sobbing into the pillow. Dick’s about to go limp under the spanks when Jason pulls him up to stare at his face.

“Th-thank you, Jay. I’m sorry. I should have explained better. I shoulda made you listen instead of letting you go on thinking that I’d left you.” Dick says, his breath hitching, on the verge of crying. “I’m sorry!”

“You’re really sorry?” Jason says sternly, lifting a hand to gently brush away the single tear that’s escaped Dick’s eye and is running down his cheek.

“Yes!” Dick nods, wanting nothing more than to curl up in Jason’s arms, and soothe all the pain he caused without thinking about anything other than his own fear of losing Jason. He’d nearly lost him by being stupid, never mind Pyg murdering Jason in the field.

“Then get on your knees and suck for forgiveness.” Jason says, his voice and expression both hard and unyielding.

“Jason...” Dick breathes out; the challenge and the inherent forgiveness already in that statement are putting a heady mix of emotion in his chest.

“And don’t think I missed you wearing your medical peculiar either, Dickie.” Jason smirks. “Make it good, or I _won’t_ bite you.”

“Yes, Jay.” Dick gets to work, pulling open Jason’s pants and freeing his hardening cock, leaning forward to lick at the tip gently. Then Dick gets to work, opening his mouth wide and taking in as much as he can manage. He covers what he can’t fit in his mouth with his hand, and begins to suck in earnest, eyes slipping closed with the up and down rhythm, and moaning at the taste. 

He’s missed this more than words can say, and the stinging of his ass and the throbbing of his own neglected cock are just adding to the needy thing he always becomes for Jason. Dick loses time focusing on the weight on his tongue and the stretch of his mouth, the taste of Jason’s precum, and swallowing more and more, until he feels a hand gently brushing his hair back from his face.

“Look at me, my love.” Jason murmurs and Dick looks up at him, trying to put all his emotions into his gaze and make Jason truly forgive him. “Look at you. You could do that for hours, couldn’t you? Maybe I should hold you down there and make you keep my cock warm all night. You’d love that wouldn’t you?” Dick moans, lost in the knowledge that it’s true, and half wanting it simply because Jason’s suggested it. He nods as much as he can with his mouth so full.

But Jason’s pushing his head back and off his cock and Dick wines at the loss. Jason manhandles him up from his knees, to lying face down on the bed, pulling his pyjamas off and Dick lets him, waiting to see what Jason will do next. 

“Comfy?” Jason asks and there’s a certain earned smugness in his tone that makes something like pride bubble deep within Dick. He’d been good enough that Jason’s happy and that makes him feel so good. 

“Yes, Jay.” Dick moans into the pillow. His voice is slightly muffled, but Jason smoothes a hand down his back and Dick sighs happily at the bare skin contact.

“We’re gonna try something.” Jason whispers and he moves to lean over Dick’s back. “I’ve wanted to do this since you first bought those medical peculiars.”

“Dilators...” Dick whispers back, still amused by Jason’s renaming of his beloved dilators.

“What?” Jason pauses, and Dick realises he’s waiting for Dick’s go ahead.

“Please... Jason. Please do it.” Dick lifts his head so that there’s no mistaking his permission.

“Oh I will, Dickie. I will.” Jason pins his wrists down and some sort of emotional release goes through Dick, he’s safe in Jason’s hands and it’s where he’s needed to be since their argument. Jason kicks his legs open and then rests his cock along the channel between Dick’s ass cheeks, and slowly rubs his way up and down. It nudges the dilator inside Dick, pushing it into his sweet spot, forcing a quiet whine out of his throat. Jason rocks back and forth, again and again, making Dick whine and writhe under him, his long hair spreading over the pillow like a spill of ink.

“Oh, oh, Jay!” Dick twists his head trying to get a glimpse of him. “Take it out. Take it out and take _me_!”

“No.” Jason laughs wickedly. “You’re going to take it just like this. You come from this or not at all Dickie. That’s how you’re making it up to me.”

“ _Jason_...” Dick sobs out, and it feels like a prayer. “I’ll be good. I’ll be good, so please bite me! Please, please bite me!”  
Jason doesn’t answer except to lean down further, his weight on Dick’s wrists. He presses kisses to Dick’s bare shoulder and then opens his mouth to graze his teeth along his skin. Dick pants, dropping his head forward, and spreading his legs further. Jason bites down, gently at first then harder and harder, stopping just short of breaking the skin. He rocks his hips harder between Dick’s cheeks, and Dick can’t help but clench down on the dilator, over and over again.

“Fuck Dickie. You feel so good!” Jason grunts. “I’m not going to last much longer.”

“ _Jay_...” Dick whimpers, and Jason presses him down harder, nudging Dick’s hair away from the nape of his neck and fastening his teeth there. He bites down and that’s all it takes for Dick to come suddenly and intensely, the pleasure stealing his breath and all thought from him. When he can breathe again, Jason’s teeth are hard in the back of his neck and Jason’s grunting hard as hot wet splashes against Dick’s back. Jason rolls off him, onto his back and Dick squirms around, until he’s facing Jason and under his arm, resting his cheek on Jason’s shoulder.

“We’ve both been a bit silly haven’t we?” Dick says, shifting closer and relaxing as Jason’s arm wraps around him.

“Seems so.” Jason says quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of Dick’s head, and letting his free hand come up and squeeze at the back of Dick’s neck. “Might have got you a bit bloody there.”

“I think I deserved it this time.” Dick shrugs, cuddling in tighter. “Next time we have an argument? Let’s promise to talk about it after a day or so. I don’t want to do this again.”

“Promise.” Jason says, squeezing Dick gently for a moment. Dick takes it for the apology it is.

“I love you, Jay.” Dick whispers, feeling sleep start to creep up on him.

“I love you too, Dickie.” Jason whispers back, anger finally fully gone from him.

***

After a tense conversation this morning with Jason about why Dick had really become Nightwing, Dick’s feeling relieved and ready to get to work.

_“It’s so stupid. You’ll laugh.” Dick mutters, feeling small._

_“I won’t. I promise.” Jason lifts a hand and rests it on the back of Dick’s neck, making the bite there sting pleasantly._

_“Pyg got in my head. He said since we were clearly ‘close’ he’d murder you in front of me. No more double Robin.” Dick drops his head, and his ponytail slips over his shoulder. “And then I panicked; I thought if there were only one of us, if I was Nightwing, he wouldn’t have the chance to. I couldn’t lose you again, Jay.”_

_“Dickie. You’re an idiot. Why didn’t you just say?” Jason uses his free hand to pick Dick’s chin up so that their eyes meet. His face is serious, there’s no hint of wry amusement or even mockery._

_“I... You’re not laughing?” Dick says in confusion._

_“Nothing about this is funny, my love.” Jason says, frowning slightly before leaning in to press a light kiss to Dick’s forehead._

Dick’s waiting for the others to arrive in the cave so that the planning session for the takedown of Pyg and Toad can start, holding his mask in his hands, but otherwise fully dressed in his Nightwing uniform, when he hears steps behind him and he turns to see Jason. He’s changed his uniform from the Robin one, and Dick has to inhale sharply on seeing it.

Gone is the Ulster coat, leaving in its place a black double breasted military jacket and black pants. It’s a match to Dick’s Nightwing uniform, only where Dick has a blue bird across his chest, Jason’s is a dark crimson. The other major difference is that the gloves, belt, boots and half mask held in Jason’s hand are the same dark red. 

“What... Jason?” There’s no question in Dick’s mind that he and Jason are meant to be a matched set in these costumes and Dick’s heart skips a beat.

“Uh. Look... This started out as a ‘fuck you’, to get back at you for the whole Robin thing.” Jason ruffles the hair at the back of his head, looking slightly ashamed. 

“But after you explained about Pyg getting in your head this morning... Well. I guess it’s a ‘fuck you’ to Pyg now. He can’t break us apart.”

“I...” Dick stares, taking in the width of Jason’s shoulders, and the way the lack of the cape shows off just how strong and broad of a man Jason’s becoming.

“You like it?” Jason says, aiming for casual but the nervousness shows through.

“Flamebird? I love it.” Dick says, with a delighted smile. Even when he was mad at Dick, Jason still made them partners! It’s _perfect_.

“Flamebird!” Jason scoffs. “No. _Firebird_. Flamebird is a stupid name, and besides Firebird is an _actual thing_ and it fits me better. With the whole dying and resurrecting thing.”

“Firebird. I love it.” Dick says, feeling the shape of the word in his mouth and enjoying every second.

“I take it you approve of our changes, Dick?” Alfred says, approaching with an amused glint in his eye and a large covered bundle in his arms.

“Ah, yes. I do, Mr Pennyworth.” Dick grins at Alfred, pleased as punch that Jason’s repaired his relationship with Alfred enough that they’re sneaking around behind his back to make a new uniform. “I can’t believe you managed to keep this a secret!”

“Yes. I thought perhaps knowing how it feels to be on the other side of a uniform change might be good for you.” Alfred says, with a hint of a reproving tone poking through his amusement.

“I... Yes.” Dick says, feeling fully reproached. Alfred hadn’t approved of keeping it a secret from Jason, and had made his displeasure clear to Dick. 

“In that case, might I persuade you to tweak your current uniform somewhat?” Alfred uncovers the bundle in his arms to reveal a pair of boots, gloves, a belt and mask in the same blue as Dick’s own bird.

“I...” Dick looks between the two of them and feels something restless settle in his bones. “Thank you, Mr Pennyworth. I’ll change into them right now!”

“Excellent.” Alfred hands Dick the bundle with a warm smile and Dick returns it. It’s such a small thing to make Jason happy, and Dick would do it a hundred times over if he had to. “Jason, why don’t we make our way over to the meeting table while Dick does that?” 

“Why not, Mr Pennyworth.” Jason grins, and for a brief second he looks light and happy. Dick’s heart does a little flip in his chest and he walks over to the changing room to swap out his clothes and the items in his belt.

When he arrives at the table, and takes his seat with Jason and Cassandra, Mr Wayne pulls down a map from the wall and they begin developing the plan for taking in Professor Pyg and Mr Toad, once and for all.

***

In the billowing smoke of the gas bombs that Batman threw earlier to knock out as many dollotrons as possible, Dick’s lost sight of Batman and Firebird. Batgirl’s to his right, about twelve feet away, currently kicking the hell out of Mr Toad. Toad hits the floor, and within seconds, Batgirl has the villain tied up and unconscious, ready for when the police finally arrive to take them into custody.

Batgirl wanders over to the window of the warehouse, opening it to let some of the fog disperse. Dick checks on the downed dollotrons, pulling off their masks to see if they’re simply unconscious or in need of a doctor. A few look like they might need to go to the hospital, so he drags those to form a small group, handcuffing the rest in case they wake and attack, due to still being brainwashed by Pyg. None of them stirs, which is, as far as Dick’s concerned, a good thing. Batgirl signals to get his attention.

“Going out to check.” She tilts her head in the direction of the outside of the building. “Make sure no more coming.”

“Good plan, Batgirl.” Dick nods. “I’ll try to track down Batman and Firebird.”

“Yes.” Batgirl studies him for a moment and Dick feels seen in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

“You’ll take the alert to the police?” Dick says, trying to shake off the feeling that Batgirl just saw into his soul.

“Once Batman is back. Yes.” Batgirl pulls herself up into the now open window and jumps out, running perfectly in the shadows as she secures the perimeter.

Dick gets a hold of himself, and walks out of the surprisingly large office in the warehouse to check the other rooms. He sees no sign of either Batman or Firebird and he’s starting to get worried. It’s deadly quiet in the warehouse, and he can’t even see any unconscious dollotrons, making things feel even eerier. He hears a quiet scuffling noise and pivots on his heel in the direction it came from. He slowly walks over to the closed door and pushes it open with one hand, the other raised up with one of his batons in hand to defend himself. 

Pyg rushes through the door and Dick has bare seconds to avoid those huge meaty hands wrapping around his neck. Instead they land on his arm, and he’s grabbed and thrown backwards. He flips back onto his feet, but he’s still on the defensive, so Pyg manages to herd him back into the office where Toad is tied up and knocked out.

Dick’s a pretty good fighter, if he does say so himself; but his kicks, punches, and the blows from his batons aren’t doing as much damage on their own as he’d hoped they would. He’s been fighting for what feels like hours and he can feel himself slowing down, and that momentary distraction is enough for Pyg to clamp his hand around Dick’s neck, and slam him back against the wall. Pyg isn’t squeezing yet, but Dick needs to get away from that grip before he does.

“Nightwing!” Jason yells, distracting Pyg for a brief second as he runs into the office. Jason uses his momentum to swing his leg up into a donkey kick, kicking Pyg in the stomach, forcing him back, letting Dick break free. 

“Need a hand, ‘Wing?” Jason smirks while he lowers his leg from the kick. 

“I think that was more of a foot, Firebird.” Dick croaks out, rubbing at his sore throat. He pushes away from the wall and moves into a fighting stance.

“You’re welcome, by the way.” Jason says offhandedly as he dodges a hefty swing of Pyg’s arm.

“Less talking, more fighting.” Dick tells him, smacking one of his batons into the back of Pyg’s ribs, making him grunt in pain. 

“Bossy.” Jason shakes his head, aiming another kick to Pyg’s leg.

“Oh ho! The Robins all grown up!” Pyg laughs, snorting like the animal he’s named after. “And look, you’re both so sweet together.”

“Shut up!” Dick yells, kicking Pyg in the stomach.

“I can’t wait to hear your sad mooo-urnful soo-oong when I kill one of you!” Pyg cackles, swinging for Dick and missing by several feet when Dick nimbly dodges backwards.

“Only one dying here is you, Piggy.” Jason snarls, sweeping his foot out to hook Pyg’s ankles and grinning as he lands on the floor with a satisfying crunch of broken bone.

“Now that’s not true, Birdy Boy.” Pyg groans out, before squealing exactly like a pig when Jason kicks his broken ankle. “I’ll get you and your tweeting sweetheart yet.”

“You know, Pyg. I don’t think that’s true at all.” Dick says crouching over him, quickly tying his wrists together. “You’re not ever going to touch either of us ever again.” Dick punches him hard in the stomach. “That’s for threatening Firebird.”

Jason snags Pyg’s collar and hauls him upwards, raising his fist to Pyg’s ugly mask. “And this is for me.” Jason punches Pyg hard, right in the mask. “This is for Nightwing.” Another punch and the mask cracks a little. “This is for us both! Thinking you could break us apart? You had no chance, _Squealer_!” Another punch and the mask splinters into pieces. “And this is for everyone you ever turned into a doll.” Another punch and Pyg’s unconscious, hanging from Jason’s grip. Jason raises his fist once again.

“FIREBIRD!” Batman roars, racing into the office, Batgirl following in after him, and Jason pauses at the sound. “That’s enough!”

“He deserves it.” Jason says hotly, dropping Pyg down and his head makes a cracking sound as his the ground. Dick can’t find it in him to feel bad for the villain.

“He can’t go on trial if he’s dead.” Batman says, but it’s far calmer and Dick’s sure it’s his way of agreeing with Jason. “If he goes to court others will know they can’t get away with actions like these.”

“I guess. Sorry, Boss.” Jason says, not entirely convinced and still annoyed. Dick’s just relieved that he’s letting it go.

“Try not to do it again, Firebird.” Batman says firmly. “Batgirl, everyone is down, or tied up in front of the building. Please alert the police. We’ll wait here for you.”  
Batgirl goes out of the window again, and Batman wanders over picking up the shattered pieces of Pyg’s mask. He idly puts them in one of his belt pouches.

“Should we take these guys outside?” Dick says, gesturing to Pyg and Toad. “While we wait for Batgirl?”

“Yes.” Batman grips at one of Pyg’s legs and Jason picks up the other, leaving Dick to get Toad. It takes a few minutes to move Pyg’s massive body and Toad’s less bulky one outside and onto the street. By the time they get back to the room they were in before, Batgirl is climbing in the widow and giving them the thumbs up sign, to indicate that the police are indeed coming. Dick wonders how she does it, because her success rate is double both his and Jason’s together. 

“All of you. I just want to say excellent work here today. The police will be here to pick everyone up very soon, but I want you all to take a moment and realise what you’ve done for the city. Thank you.” Batman rests a gentle hand on Dick’s shoulder squeezing slightly before letting go. Dick can’t help smiling at the praise. He looks over to Jason who’s rolling his eyes slightly, obviously still annoyed at being stopped from pummelling Pyg.

“Needed to be done, Old Man. But you didn’t do so bad yourself.” Jason says, with a small smirk. Dick wants to reach over to slap him, he can’t believe Jason’s being so rude right now.

“Old Man?” Batman blinks, before the tiniest of smiles graces his lips. “What happened to Boss?”

“Yeah, well. Your wife says we’re a proper family now, so... _Old Man_.” Jason mutters, looking away slightly embarrassed.

“Huh. Old Man.” Batman muses, his smile getting slightly bigger. “Is it odd that I like that?”

“No, Boss! I think it’s great.” Dick grins, and elbows Jason sharply in the ribs. “We’ll all start using it.”

“They’re pulling up outside.” Batgirl says looking out of the window as the police clatter along the cobblestoned streets to the warehouse. “We going now?”

“Yes.” Batman nods. “Time to go home. Our horseless carriage awaits us.”

***

Dick steps out into the upstairs hallway when he hears yelling, only to be almost knocked over by Mrs Wayne running by, spitting curses, followed by Jason, Stephanie and Cassandra. Dick watches in confusion as Jason finally catches up to Mrs Wayne and grabs her wrists, twisting them up behind her back to hold both of them in one hand while the other goes around her waist. Mrs Wayne kicks and screams while Jason tries to hold her in place.

“Dick! Grab her legs!” Jason shouts at him as he struggles with her.

“Jason... What on earth?” Dick says, automatically going over to help.

“Dick, if you trust me, _grab her legs_ , for fuck’s sake!” Jason pleads, and that more than anything sends a spike of panic through Dick.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this...” Dick grabs Mrs Wayne’s legs and helps Jason get her down to sit on the floor.

“If ye blasted mollyboys dinnae let go, I’ll be having ye!” Mrs Wayne snarls, sounding utterly unlike herself.

“Shut the fuck up already!” Jason groans, avoiding having his nose broken by jerking is head back just as Mrs Wayne does the same.

“Aye, ye like getting yer filthy hands on a woman finally, _Dickie_?” Mrs Wayne says lewdly, opening her knees wide.

“Cain! Get Mr Pennyworth. Now!” Jason shouts and Dick can see Cassandra nod and run off out of the corner of his eye. His grip on Mrs Wayne’s ankles slips and she nearly kicks him in the groin. Dick redoubles his grip. “Brown!” 

“Salt?” Stephanie says, without missing a beat as she turns to leave.

“All the salt!” Jason yells as Stephanie runs down the hallway to the stairs.

“Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” Dick yells in frustration. 

“It’s kind of complicated...” Jason forces Mrs Wayne to lie down in his lap, and her efforts at getting free lose some power.

“I’ll be getting my revenge, and none of ye cannae stop me!” Mrs Wayne cackles, and Dick stares at her face, twisted up with hate, and feels a chill go through him.

“You’re not Mrs Wayne.” Dick says, staring at the imposter in front of him.

“Ah, ye’re more than just a pretty face, int ye, laddie!” The thing that looks like Mrs Wayne shrieks, amused. She writhes in their holds, bucking and trying to fight her way free, and it feels like hours pass before Stephanie arrives with a huge jar of salt, and opens it to lay a thick circle of salt all around them. 

“What are you doing?” Dick stares at Stephanie, completely confused and bemused as to why she’s doing what she’s doing.

“They’re trying to keep me in, laddie. Only that cannae stop me!” Mrs Wayne laughs cruelly.

“Annie, I swear to god, shut up or I’ll knock you out!” Jason snarls. “I... She’s a ghost. Possessing Mrs Wayne.”

“A ghost. Possessing Mrs Wayne.” Dick says flatly, pinning her legs down to the floor a little harder.

“Yes.” Jason has this look on his face like regret or resignation. “I know how it sounds, but it’s true.”

“It is, I’m afraid.” Mrs Pennyworth says, striding up with a large book in his hands.

“Holy exorcism, Mr Pennyworth?” Dick says, reading the title of the book out loud.

“I had hoped that it would never become necessary, but here we are.” Mr Pennyworth sighs, as if he’s talking about ordering extra joints of meat, or needing to buy more linens.

“Should we get out of the circle?” Dick stares at the thick lines of salt surrounding them.

“No, she’s gonna hurt Mrs Wayne if we let go.” Jason shakes his head, and Dick can see some very real fear in his eyes.

Alfred starts reciting a prayer in Latin that Dick vaguely remembers from his time at the church with Sister Leslie before she was murdered. Mrs Wayne gasps and jolts in their grasp. Beside Mr Pennyworth, Stephanie whispers the Lord’s Prayer, over and over as he keeps reading. Cassandra is whispering too, but Dick doesn’t recognise the words she’s using. He looks over to Jason, who gives him a grim look before joining in with Stephanie.

The ghost inside Mrs Wayne starts laughing raucously. “Ye’ll have to dae better than that! My blood and bones are in this place!” There’s a whistling sound in the air and Dick looks around to see if a window has opened, only to see a knife flying through the air. It’s one of the steak knives from the dining room and it’s heading straight towards them.

Cassandra leaps into the air, kicking it with precision and the knife thwacks into the door frame Dick came out of bare minutes ago, embedding itself to nearly the hilt. A veritable storm of things start flying through the air, and Cassandra punches and kicks them down and away before they can make it to where Jason and Dick are. Dick moves to hold both of Mrs Wayne’s delicate ankles in one hand while the other finds its way to his pendant, and he holds it tightly while he prays along with Jason.

Alfred keeps reading calmly through all the chaos, voice getting louder and more determined the longer he goes. He reaches the end of one prayer and starts another, just as Mrs Wayne jerks and groans. A white wispy mist starts to escape her, and Dick can see it reform into the shape of a girl around Stephanie’s age. Jason doesn’t miss a beat, though, lifting Mrs Wayne to her feet and pushing her towards Cassandra. Dick goes with her, stepping outside the circle and helping the shaking Mrs Wayne to what appears to be safety. Jason’s about to step out behind them when he’s pulled by the ghost and slammed up against the wall.

“Ye might’ve taken her, but you’ll do in a pinch, _laddie_... Yer blood and bones belong here too... ” The ghost says threateningly, running her hands over Jason’s chest.

“Get the hell offa me!” Jason yells, pushing off from the wall and grabbing the ghost’s wrists to keep her back. They tussle twisting around and Dick doesn’t stop to think, he steps back into the circle, coming up behind Jason and holding him around the waist to brace him as he tries to shove the ghost back. His necklace, still outside his shirt from earlier falls over Jason’s shoulder and the ghost rears back.

“I’ll kill ye all!” The ghost shrieks, voice rising in pitch and volume.

“Aw, you don’t like that much do you?” Jason smirks, risking pulling a hand away to grip at Dick’s pendant. “You couldn’t get in the house when it was down by the stairs, could you?”

“Jason?” Dick whispers, his neck being pulled forward by Jason’s grip on the necklace.

“But then like a fool, I took it inside and you’ve been doing what you please, haven’t you?” Jason shakes his head. “Well, not anymore!” Jason pulls the pendant over Dick’s head and hooks it over the ghost’s. She screams the most unearthly scream, and Alfred raises his voice, reciting another prayer in Latin. The ghost fades, screaming still, until the pendant drops down to the floor, and the atmosphere lightens to something lighter and cleaner. Jason scoops up the necklace and hands it back to Dick somewhat sheepishly, looking guilty and sad. Dick puts the pendant back on and turns to check on the others. 

“Is she gone?” Stephanie says quietly.

“I believe so.” Mr Pennyworth says, turning to look at her.

“Mrs Wayne, are you alright?” Cassandra says slowly, her arm under Mrs Wayne’s shoulder, helping her stand.

“Yes. I’m fine. A little shaken perhaps.” Mrs Wayne says with a shaky smile.

“Are you sure?” Dick says, taking in how she’s trembling slightly and the paleness of her face.

“I could feel her hate. She was so angry.” Mrs Wayne says instead of answering, shaking her head.

“Let’s get you downstairs, Mrs Wayne.” Stephanie says, slipping under her other shoulder.

“Selina. Please. You saved me and the baby. Call me Selina. All of you.” Mrs Wayne, Selina, tells them as they head towards the stairs.

“Well.” Mr Pennyworth says, snapping his book shut. “I think we all should go to the kitchen for a nice hot cup of tea.”

“And some explanations?” Dick says hopefully. He’s still not really sure what the hell just happened.

Once they’re all in the kitchen, sitting around the table while Stephanie puts the kettle on. Dick sits back and watches as Jason hangs back, leaning against the sink.

“So... Explanations are in order, if only for Dick.” Selina says, winking at him. How she’s managing to be so calm and in control, Dick has no idea.

“Well... Shall I start?” Mr Pennyworth says, smiling faintly. “When we moved in here, I noticed that there was ghost haunting the grounds. I managed to speak with her on a few occasions, and after hearing that both Miss Brown and Mr Todd had done the same, I consequently did some research. It turns out that she was a witch in the employ of Thomas Wayne in the 1760’s. The human sacrifice stories seem to have a grain of truth in them. He betrayed her and she swore her revenge.”

“I saw her in the distance ever since I came to work here. She muttered a few threats, but I kept away until we saw her in the house, and we salted the place to keep her out.” Stephanie interjects.

“It’s my fault.” Jason sighs, and when everyone turns to look at him he seems deeply uncomfortable. “I found that pendant one day, and she encouraged me to take it. I shoulda known better. Then she started creeping around the house and told me why only some of us could see her... That we’d died, or been surrounded by so much death it left a mark.”

“I used to work in the Finger Street Clinic before it shut down.” Stephanie says, looking pale.

“I was in the Second Opium War.” Mr Pennyworth adds. “I think that speaks for itself.”

“I died in that warehouse, until Dick brought me back.” Jason looks at the floor. “I shoulda done more. I’m sorry, Mrs Wayne.”

“Selina, Jason. And I think saving my life evens it out, don’t you?” Selina says with a hint of a smile on her still pale face.

“Does it, Selina?” Jason looks at her with hope tinged sorrow.

“It does.” Selina frowns at him and waves him over to her. Jason goes slowly and when he gets to her side, she reaches up to ruffle his hair, pulling him into a hug.

The kettle chooses that moment to whistle and Alfred stands up, making his way over. “Time for tea. And maybe something just a touch stronger for us all.”

***

Dick spins on his heels letting his skirts fly up and twists back into the chorus line, linking his arms with Sally and Marie. They kick in time with the music, and the last verse of the song reaches its crescendo and Dick is spun to the front to execute his high kick. He holds his leg by his ear, giving the audience a good look, and in the darkness of the sea of theatre seats, he can see Jason, sitting in the 6th row back, grinning widely with pride. The smile on Dick’s face grows a touch warmer, less performance high and more genuine happiness. Jason came to watch his show! 

The song finishes and Dick lets his leg drop down, hand reaching up to make sure his wig and fascinator are still in place. He follows the rest of the girls backstage and as soon as he’s out of sight in the wings, he does a little twirl of happiness. A few of the girls laugh at him, shaking their heads at his exuberance. Dick hangs back as he usually does, waiting for everyone else to get changed and leave before he starts to change into his looser, less revealing dress for the trek home. There are only two or three other girls left when suddenly a strong pair of hands rests on his hips.

“Found you!” Jason says into his ear, laughing, wrapping his arms more securely around Dick’s waist. 

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be back here, you know...” Dick says with a laugh, looking over his shoulder to see Jason’s relaxed grin. There’s something wonderful and a little sad about how easily they can touch each other and be affectionate in front of other people when Dick’s wearing dress and a wig.

“But I had to come see you. And your lovely frock.” Jason says, twisting Dick around so that they’re facing each other. In his heels, Dick’s still not as tall as Jason, but looking into his eyes is easier.

“It _is_ nice, isn’t it? Maybe if you work really hard you can buy me one just like it.” Dick teases, wrapping his arms around Jason’s neck.

“Oh, I can, can I?” Jason teases right back, and Dick gets lost in his eyes, feeling on top of the world.

“Yes.” Dick nods, trailing his fingers through Jason’s hair, flipping his cap off his head and onto Dick’s own, knocking the fascinator and his wig off to the ground, leaving his own long hair pinned up on his head.

“Night, Dita!” The last of the girls calls out as they leave the dressing room and Dick finally looks away from Jason to smile at them.

“Night, girls! Be safe on your way home!” Dick calls out to their retreating forms and hears their giggles as they go out of the door.

“So... I think we’re alone now.” Jason says with a leer, tightening his grip on Dick’s waist.

“Looks like it.” Dick grins, lowering his head to blink up at Jason coquettishly through his eyelashes. 

“Finally.” Jason walks them backwards until Dick’s almost up against the wall.

“What do you mean? ...Oh!” Dick cries out as Jason spins him again, so that he’s facing the wall, and hitching Dick’s skirts up to his hips. “Jason... You, ah, ohhhh, _yes!_ ”

Jason doesn’t respond, being far too busy dropping down onto his knees, ripping off Dick’s underwear and pressing kisses to his ass cheeks. Jason uses his thumbs to spread Dick open wider, pushing his mouth into the space he makes. Dick cries out at the first touch of Jason’s tongue to his hole. He spreads his legs wider, feeling prickles of sweat begin to form at the top of his stockings. Soon Jason’s licking right across it, dipping the tip of his tongue in every other swipe, until Dick’s feeling wet and loose and panting and whining for it. 

Jason pulls away, biting lightly at both of Dick’s cheeks. “Want me to keep going, or should we try something else?” 

Dick lets his head drop to rest against the wall and whines, unable to even begin to decide something like that right now, with his heart in his ears and mouth, feeling so wanted and needy. He’s been bracing himself on the wall with both hands, but he drops one down to twist his fingers into Jason’s hair and push his face back where Dick needs it. 

“Pushy. I’m gonna get you back for that, _Dita_...” Jason says, slightly muffled by Dick’s thighs, but he gets back to work, making Dick cry out and slip down the wall. His legs are trembling with the effort of holding himself up, and the corset he’s wearing to give him more of a waist is starting to really affect his breathing. He can’t get a full lungful of air, despite how he’s panting and it’s making him feel more lightheaded than usual. He’s so close to coming all over himself and there’s nothing he wants more, but...

“Jason. I’m... I’m so close!” Dick sobs out. “I have to... I have to take the dress off.”

“Why?” Jason says, pulling back enough to be heard clearly.

“Can’t come on it, Jay, it’s not my dress...” Dick whines. “I can’t get it dirty, Jay!”

“Fine. Let’s get it off you then.” Jason sighs, getting off his knees and unlaces the dress as he comes up. “There. Stand up straight, and then step out.” The dress drops to the floor and Jason scoops it up while Dick stands there and shakes.

“Jay...” Dick breathes out, feeling adrift and lost without Jason’s hands on him.

“Yes, my love? I’m right here; you’re being such a good girl for me.” Jason says, pressing up against Dick’s back. “Think you can take more?”

“I... Please!” Dick begs, and Jason slips a small vial of oil out of his pocket and covering his finger before slipping it inside Dick’s hole up to the knuckle. He pulls out too quickly for Dick’s liking but then Dick hears him unbutton his pants and Dick knows he’s about to get what he deserves.

“Bend over a little for me, _Dita_.” Jason says, voice rough. “I’m gonna grab the laces on your corset and make you take my cock, my love.” 

“Please, Jay, please!” Dick says, bending over and bracing his arms on the wall once more, spreading his legs apart further as Jason slips between them and the tip of his cock finds Dick’s hole so easily. Jason slides in to the root and Dick relishes in the stretch and the feeling of fullness that comes from being spread wide on Jason’s cock. 

Dick breathes the feeling in, soaks in the feeling of the heat of Jason’s thighs pressed against his, and the way Jason’s breath tickles at his neck as he leans over him. There’s the push and pull of Jason getting his fingers under the laces of Dick’s corset, tightening them until there’s enough slack for Jason to get a truly good grip on them, one hand at the top of Dick’s corset so that his finger tips are brushing the skin of his shoulder blades and the other at the base of Dick’s spine, pulling hard enough that the low front of the corset is being pulled up into Dick’s lower belly in the strangest, most enticing way.

If Dick thought he was having trouble breathing before, now with Jason yanking on the stays of the corset, Dick feels truly controlled, right down to the inhales of air he can take. Being so dominated and owned makes something unfurl in his chest, despite his hitching breath, as Jason slowly begins to thrust in and out, over and over. He’s being so gentle that Dick wants to scream, to plead to be taken harder, but the air to speak is so hard to come by with every tug of the stays. Jason pounds into him, hitting that one spot that makes Dick whine and go wild, usually turning him into a begging mess. But this time, he’s so breathless, Dick can do nothing but take it. And a big part of him thrills in the knowledge that he’s completely, utterly, _Jason’s_.

Jason leans over and the heat of his chest feels so perfect to the skin of Dick’s back that he finally sobs loudly. Jason presses a kiss to the bare skin of Dick’s shoulder, nosing over gently to bite hard on Dick’s neck. Dick feels his whole body seize, going taut as Jason’s teeth dig in painfully and pleasurable and Dick gasps as much as he can. He realises that he came without so much as a touch to his cock, and Jason grunts his own release deep inside him. 

After a quick clean up, with Jason redoing his clothes while Dick slips into his looser plain cotton dress, they can’t stop smiling and stealing kisses from one another, making the whole affair take longer than it should. Jason laces his dress up, gently kissing his neck over the bite mark, as Dick dots a little perfume behind his ears. Dick takes Jason’s arm as they walk out of the theatre and through the streets and back alleys to where Duke is waiting for them, joking and smiling like any other courting couple in Gotham.

***

Dick stretches his arms out, sliding them onto the sleeves of his Nightwing jacket. The pull of the fabric across his shoulders as it settles feels like he’s forgetting the responsibilities of the day and his real work is about to begin. Doing up the buttons of the jacket, he slings his belt on and picks up his gloves and mask, walking out of the changing room into the cave. He smiles sheepishly when he realises that everyone else is already assembled and he hurries over to stand next to Jason, in full Firebird uniform, who slings a casual arm around Dick’s shoulders. Jason’s hand rests over his heart, fingers twined around his own mask. 

Cassandra gives him a smile as he looks around at his colleagues, his friends, his _family_. Her Batgirl uniform hasn’t changed in the last two years, except for the small batcrest on her chest, outlined in eggplant. Dick always feels a burst of affection at seeing it, knowing why she chose that colour. It’s to match Stephanie’s Spoiler uniform, a modified riding skirt over loose pants, and a cape that only just reaches her waist. Dick was surprised that Stephanie joined them in the field. Although, if you asked Jason, as Dick did, it was something he saw coming from the day she found the cave in the first place. 

Tim’s standing next to them both, looking resplendent in the Robin uniform. He’s grown a little, but he’s still the shortest among them, as Jason loves to remind him. He’s proving himself to be a capable and clever Robin, and Dick can’t help but feel a swell of pride whenever he looks at him in the uniform. While Tim didn’t get to have his dream of all three of them being Robin together, the fact that every now and then, Jason slips him an extra pastry or two has soothed that sting, Dick’s sure.

Dick looks to Bruce, standing at the head of the table, like a general surveying his troops. He’s smiling more obviously than he used to, and it’s slightly incongruous with the Bat uniform, but Dick likes that Bruce is both happy and secure enough to show how he’s feeling so outwardly. Selina steps closer to him, linking her arm with his, smirking at him like the cat that got the cream. That the Catwoman of Gotham has returned to protect the working ladies of the poorer neighbourhoods is something that a great deal of female population of Gotham are celebrating. Selina’s uniform is similar to Stephanie’s, although in the shade of purple that’s always been her own.

Alfred hangs back from the main group, holding a squirming Damian in his arms. Damian keeps reaching out for his father’s cape, and poor Alfred has to try and contain the toddler in his grip or they’ll find Damian hiding in the changing room again, putting on his father’s uniform. Dick has his suspicions that Carrie actually lets him in there some days; given the smirk she wears on the occasions when Bruce discovers half eaten cookies in the pockets of his coat. 

Damian’s squirming knocks over Alfred’s new cane and Carrie grabs at it before it can hit the floor and disturb the sword within. With the addition of Damian to the family, both Carrie and Duke were given extra training; and with Alfred’s military experience, they’re now probably the best security force one could hope for. And from the looks that Carrie’s been trading with Duke when they think no one is looking, they’re well on their way to being sweethearts themselves. 

Speaking of sweethearts, Dick looks over at Jason, at the easy relaxation that exudes from him, and lets the happy smile flow up from his chest right up onto his mouth. They may have had their rough patches in the past, but now their relationship is working like the well maintained machine it always has been. Dick leans into Jason’s body, sighing happily. It’s their sixth anniversary tonight, and after patrol, Dick has plans to celebrate it in the best, most private way possible; involving the largest of his medical peculiars, a particular white dress, and an everlasting, unbreakable promise. A promise that comes complete with two rings of gold.


End file.
